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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29558757">Marriage of Inconvenience</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzigane/pseuds/tzigane'>tzigane</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi'>Zaganthi (Caffiends)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stargate Atlantis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Romance Novel, Antagonism, Asshole!Sheppard, Businessmen, Cliche, Dysfunctional Family, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, FLAILEX, Forced Marriage, Kink/Cliche Challenge, M/M, Partner Betrayal, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Radek is the friend Rodney doesn't deserve, Sharing a Bed, The Author Regrets Everything, Tropes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:22:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>52,349</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29558757</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzigane/pseuds/tzigane, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"No" seemed the best way in which to express precisely what eighteen-year-old Meredith McKay thought of his father's suggestion. The one-syllable two-letter word was nigh on a universal constant, a negative in almost any given language.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rodney McKay/John Sheppard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Part of svmadelyn's <a href="http://svmadelyn.livejournal.com/454187.html">Kink/Cliche Challenge</a> 2007.</p><p>The cliche was 'Forced marriage', and the story is modeled after Harlequin stories. It is hands down ridiculous. It's a faux bad romance novel written around the forced marriage cliche, and _later_ includes sharing a bed and hotel room shenanigans</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"No!"</p><p>No seemed the best way in which to express precisely what eighteen-year-old Meredith McKay thought of his father's suggestion. The one syllable two letter word was nigh on a universal constant, a negative in almost any given language.</p><p>It didn't seem to affect his father in the least. Very little did once business magnate Roderick McKay made up his mind about a given subject. "I owe the man, Meredith. I offered everything, I even offered him Jeannie--"</p><p>"Jeannie!" Meredith -- god, how he hated that name! -- shrieked. Jeannie was only fourteen, not old enough for marriage or... or whatever debauchery the pervert who owned Pegasus Shipping had in mind.</p><p>"He didn't want her. He only wants the best and the brightest of the McKay clan." Oh. Meredith had seen that sneer before, intimately familiar with its mockery. "The truth is that he wants to humiliate me. If he can do that and make his queer pretty boy of an heir happy at the same time, then that's apparently even more of a delight."</p><p>"You can't just, just marry me off, though! How much do you owe him? What did he do that you're just handing your firstborn over to him?!" Not to mention his second born. Meredith had always known that his father didn't think much of Jeannie, of having a daughter, but there was not thinking much and then there was practically trying to sell her off like that.</p><p>Roderick scowled at him, leaning back in his executive chair. "You don't need to know, Meredith. You simply need to do as you're told."</p><p>Ha! As if he would just allow his father to dictate what happened to him, never mind that Meredith hadn't ever been able to tell his father no about anything. He'd always been intimidating, bigger than life, and this wasn't any different than it had ever been.</p><p>"Like hell I'm doing what I'm told! I'm not marrying anyone. I don't want to marry!" He folded his arms over his chest, staring down at his father even though he knew it wasn't doing to do a damn thing for him.</p><p>"Yes, you will." Roderick had that look, the one that had terrified Meredith since birth. "Sheppard has managed to manipulate most of our shareholders and all of our shares into a position where he now has a controlling interest in McKay Incorporated. He could break us." His father leaned forward. "Do you want to see your mother on the streets?"</p><p>Oh.</p><p>God.</p><p>His mother.</p><p>Elizabeth McKay had never been very strong, and having Jeannie had damaged her health greatly. Meredith could barely remember a time when his mother wasn't lying in bed, propped up by pillows, dark-eyed and tired.</p><p>She was still brilliant, though, and full of life. She was always writing, penning something, consulting the old fashioned way, she said. But it wasn't the same. She'd been bright and vibrant, once, amazing and... "You shouldn't have let him do that."</p><p>"When you're old enough to run your own business, tell me that again. In the mean time, Meredith, you need to do as you're told."</p><p>"But, <i>marriage</i>. I don't even know him, and that's not, that's not nothing!"</p><p>"No, but it will be everything." Roderick was firm and, for lack of a better word, vicious. Meredith honestly didn't want to believe he was Roderick's child, but they looked too much alike to doubt it. "It will give me time to regain control, Meredith, and then we'll crush the Sheppards. You'll get a chance to revenge yourself on the man and his son."</p><p>He exhaled hard, and ran a hand back through his hair. Married off. He was going to be married off, just like that, to a <i>man</i>, no choice, no consideration by his father about what he wanted, but at least it wasn't Jeannie. "When?"</p><p>"You're to meet him two days from now. The ceremony will be a week from today."</p><p>A week. As if a week was enough to actually accustom himself to the idea, much less have time for... well. Anything.</p><p>What was he supposed to do in preparation for a wedding? Not that it mattered, because he was sure it would all be planned without him, but Meredith still wondered, still ducked his head down and frowned, Fuck. "I'm not going to go off and be a good little wife."</p><p>The way his father leaned back and smiled was just a little malicious, or maybe a lot. "You don't have to." The way Roderick looked at him made Meredith shudder. "In fact, I expect that you'll be everything he doesn't desire in a wife. Husband. Whatever the pervert has in mind. You've always had a propensity for doing the opposite of what you're told."</p><p>"So that's your plan? I'm supposed to make him miserable?" Yeah, that probably was the plan, and Meredith was tempted for a moment to try to make things <i>not</i> miserable just to piss off his father.</p><p>"It's what you're best at, isn't it?" The implication that Meredith made his father miserable was impossible to avoid. It was also hateful, but that had never stopped Roderick before. "I'm sure it won't be a hardship for you, and if you do as I ask, there will be compensation when all's said and done, Meredith."</p><p>"Compensation. I'm not even..." Well, no, he was gay, and that was the problem, the whole reason why his father smiled at him, the whole reason why Meredith wanted to reach out and punch him.</p><p>"Any school you want into, Meredith. I'll pay for it. Otherwise... you can leave now, curse your mother and sister to misery and yourself to poverty. Really, it's so much easier to do things my way."</p><p>"Any school I want," Meredith repeated, and stared at his father. His ass, apparently, in exchange for any school he wanted and saving the family's pride. "Fine." Fine, because what else was he going to say? No? He had acceptance letters from all over the country, prestigious schools with equally renowned physics programs. He couldn't afford them without his father's money, though. Schools didn't offer scholarships to geniuses with rich families.</p><p>"I suggest you go pack, Meredith. We'll be leaving for Detroit first thing in the morning.</p><p>And then he'd meet his new husband and oh god.</p><p>Oh god. He was going to be marrying a complete stranger.</p>
<hr/><p>"Not just no, but hell no." That was pretty much the sum total of John Sheppard's feelings on the matter. Marriage at twenty-one wasn't something he wanted to do, no matter how bad his dad hated Roderick McKay. There was some kind of story there even if John didn't know what it was, exactly.</p><p>"Look, he's a handsome boy. You're a handsome boy, just shut up and enjoy what you're getting out of it." His father clapped him hard on the shoulder.</p><p>Yeah, no, that didn't work so much as far as John was concerned. "His name's <i>Meredith</i>, for God's sake! Who names their kid Meredith? Also, I don't need you to pimp me out, Dad."</p><p>"Apparently you do." His father waved the waitress over towards them, and shot John a glare again. "They're a respectable family."</p><p>"Respectable families don't offer up their kids for marriage with some random guy, Dad. I talked to Chuck when I came up to your office the other day." His dad's executive assistant was scary-perky, but he was also a great source of information. "You've been trying to pin this guy to the board for months now. What's going on?"</p><p>"I've got him pinned to the board," he shrugged. "If you marry into the family, you'll have access to get the rest of his company's stock, and that's what I want you to do."</p><p>John leaned back in his chair and watched as the waitress refilled their glasses, quietly removing soiled plates and readying the table for the desserts. "I take it he's got the shares listed in his kids' names."</p><p>"Of course. It's a safety net. His daughter is... fourteen, I think?" His father made a face. Great. Even he apparently had lines he'd draw. Thank God.</p><p>"It's not like the shares are going to come with the marriage," John drawled, shaking his head. "It won't be any use. I'll just end up married to some guy I don't even know. What makes you think he's my type?"</p><p>John didn't have a type. He'd gone through a phase that had mostly been about pissing off his dad, one that involved a lot of drinking, a lot of gay clubs, and one very tattooed and pierced 'boyfriend' who was actually the brother of the woman he'd been dating.</p><p>"I don't. I've never even met the boy." His father flashed a smile at him.</p><p>Great. Just great. "Okay. So what makes you think I'm going to do this for you? And before you go smiling like that again, just remember I know where all of the bodies are buried." Maybe not literally, but close enough.</p><p>"Because you want to make your father happy." His father threw that one out there for the joke it was. "How about 'because I say so'?"</p><p>"Or what?" John felt obligated to ask that question. "You'll take away my trust fund? Sell my skateboard? What?"</p><p>"Which would hurt you more? I'm thinking that it's the trust fund. I'm also thinking that I could say a few things to the right people and have you end up in jail."</p><p>Yeah, that one was pretty scary. If John had actually done something that had deserved it, he'd be concerned. As it was, all he could do was smirk. "I'm so worried."</p><p>"You should be. Look, I'm just trying to take the easy way to get back at this guy. You're not the only single homosexual male I know. You're just about the same age." His father made a vague hand gesture at John. "If you meet him and you decide you can't handle the idea of the guy, just tell me."</p><p>It didn't sound so bad, but John knew his father a little too well to be fooled. "So I tell you he doesn't seem like my type and then what? We're both just free to go? Collect two hundred dollars, continue to Reading Railroad?"</p><p>"No, you go free, go back to being a man-whore or whatever it is you do in your free time, and I marry him off to someone else in my company." His father shrugged slightly.</p><p>"Define someone else." John had an idea, and he didn't like it. Not in the least.</p><p>"My vice president. He's single. He'd do it for the company. He'd do it for <i>me</i>, which is apparently more than I can expect my own ungrateful bastard of a son to do."</p><p>"Yeah, well, he hasn't caught you screwing around on his mom three times and then divorcing her for a blonde that's barely my age." Yeah, there was that. On the other hand there was Kolya, and John knew a little bit too much about Acastus Kolya to be happy about the man. Some people would even call it an intimate acquaintance, if getting molested in the file room when he was thirteen counted. Son of a bitch. "I'll meet him." And he'd marry him, too. He just didn't want to give his father the satisfaction yet.</p><p>"Be polite. I'm just trying to make a respectable man out of you. And if I can humiliate the McKays at the same time..." His father shrugged his shoulders again, all casual. "They're flying in. It's not like it's going to inconvenience you."</p><p>John tossed down his napkin and rose, ignoring the fact that dessert was on the way. He could find dessert somewhere else, a willing woman, something. Anything. "Fine. When do I meet him?"</p><p>"Tomorrow morning. I'll call you with a time and location, so leave your cell phone on this time. If you try to plead 'I was out of the area', you miss your chance."</p><p>If it came down to Kolya getting his hands on some guy who was probably still in his teens or John giving up his freedom and having to figure out what to do with dick, there wasn't a lot of question about what he planned to do.</p><p>"I'll be there," he said, and rose to leave.</p>
<hr/><p>When he'd stepped out of his hotel room, his father had taken him by the shoulders, turned him back around, and frog-marched him into the bathroom because he didn't look good enough.</p><p>So it was really Take Two for the day when he walked into the neutral location that his father and the other madman had agreed to. Meredith felt as if he had a bulls eye marked on his back, one that just asked for someone to hit him squarely in the center and kill him dead.</p><p>Pausing, he glanced through the hotel restaurant, hoping against hope that he wouldn't see his father and would be able to escape. Unfortunately, Roderick McKay was in plain sight with two other people -- one, a handsome man with a face of stone, the other... Oh. Meredith sincerely hoped that wasn't the person he was supposed to be marrying. He was old with terrible skin and a vicious look to him that made Meredith sincerely afraid for his life.</p><p>"Meredith!"</p><p>As if he didn't know what direction he was supposed to head in! He just didn't want to, he wanted to turn around and make a run for it. But then Meredith remembered his sister, and his mother, and swallowed before he started to walk forwards. Fine. He could do it.</p><p>He could face it. If he had to.</p><p>Reluctantly, Meredith made his way through the tables, the faint twitch beginning to start in his left eyelid making him grimace. Great. Just great. As if the utter horror of the day wasn't enough, now he was going to get minor annoyances as well.</p><p>His father barely glanced at him when he reached the table. "Meredith, I'd like you to meet Will Sheppard and his vice-president, Acastus Kolya."</p><p>Oh god, okay, neither of them looked like they were a son. There was no Will Sheppard Junior, but if he was going to be stuck marrying someone he at least wanted to meet them beforehand. Wasn't that what they were there for? Meredith stuck out a hand to the men. "Good to meet you." Maybe if he tried to be extra manly...</p><p>Mr. Kolya nearly crushed his hand when he grasped it, and Meredith couldn't help giving a little squeak of pain. Ow, ow, ow! Oh, that was so very unpleasant, and okay, he was giving up on manly now because the guy was practically laughing at him. "Nice to meet you as well, Meredith."</p><p>Will Sheppard only gave him a nod, thank goodness. "I spoke with John a few moments ago. Apparently, there's a wreck on 375. He's taking the back route."</p><p>John? Oh, oh, god, okay, and if the guy was the son of the older but not bad looking guy, and not the one who looked like he'd tangled with gravel and lost, Meredith might be okay. He sat down quickly beside his father.</p><p>"So." This was definitely uncomfortable. They were all just <i>looking</i> at one another and at Meredith, as if he was nothing more than a bargaining chip, and in actuality he wasn't, was he?</p><p>"Meredith, would you like something to drink?" It was nice enough of Mr. Sheppard, he guessed, even though what Meredith wanted was to be a thousand miles away. He'd settle for one town over if he didn't have to be with any of these guys.</p><p>"Coffee, I guess." He tried not to shift too much, tried not to look as uncomfortable as he was. Why was the guy's vice president there? What exactly could be the point? Was he going to break Meredith's shins so that he couldn't run away? Meredith had heard that crazy Americans did things like that, shins, knees, something along those lines, and he began to sincerely worry about it even while Mr. Sheppard ordered the coffee and the waitress brought it, gently patting his hand as if he was twelve and not eighteen.</p><p>After almost ten minutes of silence, Mr. Sheppard cleared his throat and gave the most brilliant, scary smile Meredith had ever seen. "Well, it looks like John isn't going to make it, so why don't we get this show on the road?"</p><p>"I, uh, how can you get the show on the road if your son's not here? I thought the whole point was that you two decided I was going to marry your son whether I wanted to or not?" He twisted, glaring at his father, and his father had the audacity to kick him under the table.</p><p>"Lacking John's arrival at a predetermined time, we have a fine replacement in my vice president."</p><p>"That wasn't the agreement." Roderick wasn't just annoyed; he was outright pissed. Then again, he'd probably have been pissed regardless, Meredith figured.</p><p>Even if the ultimate plan was for him to try to make the guy's life hell and take him for everything he was worth, that hadn't been what his father had in mind. "No, no, no, I'm not doing it! The one I'm supposed to marry is just stuck in traffic!"</p><p>"Meredith, be still!"</p><p>Oh, as <i>if</i>. No, no, no, no and no, and...</p><p>"Hi. You guys wouldn't start without me, now would you, Dad?"</p><p>Meredith exhaled a breath he hadn't known he was holding, and sagged back in the chair. At least the younger Sheppard was good looking. He was probably stupid and snotty, but there had to be at least one godsend.</p><p>"You were late. We discussed it," Mr. Sheppard said easily enough. Mr. Kolya looked terrifyingly disappointed. "Pull up a chair, John, and meet your fiancÈ, Meredith."</p><p>Hazel-gold eyes turned his way, looking him up and down. Meredith knew he wasn't exactly a perfect specimen of manhood -- his hair was too curly, his nose too snub, his lashes too long, his mouth more crooked than anything else. Still, that didn't seem to bother John. "Hi."</p><p>He shifted, half stood up from the chair. "Hi. Your uh, father was going to move on without you..."</p><p>"Yeah, he's kind of impatient like that." The slinky way John moved made Meredith shiver. He was gay, yes, but not like that. It wasn't as if he had <i>experience</i> or, well, anything even close to it. Sex practically sang off of John's skin, all pretty mouth and smoldering eyes and wild black hair. "Nothing to worry about, sweetheart. I'm here."</p><p>And then Meredith got the very first kiss of his life.</p><p>It was <i>good</i>. It was fast and pressure, and he pressed his mouth back against John's because his lips were soft and the friction was delicious. Just pressure and a little twisting, and oh. Oh, he could like that. He could like that very much, and when John pulled back, giving him a little smirk, all Meredith could do was gasp for breath.</p><p>"Why don't we have a seat and work out the details of things then?"</p><p>"Better that than this disgusting display," Meredith's father snorted, and John wrapped his arm around his waist, tugging him close.</p><p>"Mm. Well. Shall we, then?" Mr. Sheppard was terrifyingly smug. Obviously John had inherited that facial expression if it was noticeable even with the lingering haze from that kiss.</p><p>Oh, okay, he could maybe go with the idea of it for a while. John could kiss, kiss like whoa, like those novels of his mother's that he'd pawed through when he was younger, and it was easy to sit back down, John pulling out a chair for himself.</p><p>Sheppard's Vice President cum hit man, or hit man cum vice president, just frowned a little.</p><p>"Kolya." John shifted his chair closer to Meredith's and slid his arm along the back, tugging him closer. It was a little embarrassing, and he could feel heat flushing in his cheeks. "I'd have preferred not to see you here."</p><p>"I was just thinking that myself." Meredith leaned into John, trying to ignore the way the man made a face at John and then sat back.</p><p>The senior Sheppard cleared his throat, and cut a smile at Meredith's father. "Details, details. What details do you want to start with?"</p><p>"Exactly what you're planning to give me in return for fulfilling your demands. I've brought him, just as you asked. Now I expect you to execute your own promises."</p><p>Promises? Meredith hadn't thought that there had been any kinds of promises made to his father.</p><p>"I expect you to back off and stop trying to reach Elizabeth."</p><p>"Done." The man smiled again. "What was the rest?"</p><p>"The shares." Roderick's voice ground out like rocks tumbling together. "You're going to quit bribing my shareholders."</p><p>"Not a problem. There's not much left to bribe them to do, but. You have my word."</p><p>It didn't seem like a lot to Meredith. It seemed like too little too late, and with John nudging at him gently, a subtle, easy flirtation while Kolya watched them across the table... well.</p><p>"Hey, Mer. Why don't you and I go do a little sight-seeing?"</p><p>"Oh, uh, sure." Since they were going to hash it out with or without them watching, and Meredith was starting to feel like a piece of meat. "Yeah, sure."</p><p>"No." His father's hand clamped down on Meredith's wrist quickly. "He's not going sight-seeing, he's not spending time alone with you, not until they're properly wed. Meredith's not exactly well-versed in anything except naivety. I'd prefer that he not be hustled off and seduced before the wedding and then dropped by the wayside without your promises being fulfilled."</p><p>"I'm sure my son just doesn't want him to... see the back and forth between us," the older Sheppard soothed.</p><p>"Oh, I'm sure. Meredith, you should return to your room now. Alone."</p><p>Alone sounded good, because John touching him was making him shiver, making him mortifyingly hard. John was pretty, and he seemed nice enough, except maybe he wasn't, and he was touching Meredith a lot in very pleasant ways. Nothing horrible or overt, either, just... just nice. The kiss had been great, and if that was what he had to endure for his father's half-assed plan, Meredith knew he could.</p><p>"Oh, uh..." And could he really say <i>'no, I don't want to'</i>? "But we just got down here?"</p><p>"Surely it wouldn't hurt for them to go somewhere public?" Mr. Sheppard smiled. "I don't doubt you've brought along one of your very reliable bodyguards. They can keep a close eye, be sure things don't... devolve into something of which you'd disapprove."</p><p>Roderick gave Meredith a look that Meredith knew was a message not to screw up, and then nodded vaguely. "I suppose I could."</p><p>Okay. Okay, that was a lot better than being sent to his room to be bored. He could live with that.</p><p>"We'll head out to Dearborn. They've got the early flight exhibit at the Ford Museum there. You'll like it," John promised vaguely, and yeah. Anything was better than their current place, especially if he got to eat on the way.</p><p>Meredith downed his coffee, and nodded. Early flight exhibit, that was a strange thing for anyone to suggest, but it wasn't particularly something Meredith was going to protest. Flight was physics, and that sort of thing was interesting to him. "That sounds great. Shall we?"</p><p>"Make sure that you keep Eugene in sight at all times."</p><p>He had never actually asked about the serious-faced American. He was Roderick's executive assistant and his bodyguard, and he seemed unassuming most of the time. Rumor had it he'd killed three men for looking at him funny, though, so Meredith had never wanted to try that one.</p><p>"Yes, Father." He turned his head, and caught sight of the man lingering off against one wall of the restaurant they were in, unassuming as always, and Meredith turned to smile tightly at John Sheppard. "Shall we?"</p><p>It earned him a grin, and a jingle of keys that looked pretty impressive. "Follow me."</p><p>Following wasn't so much an option as it was a necessity, since John took his hand and tugged, pulling him after him as he went along. It was nice, too, Meredith had to admit. Almost like being wanted, and John was <i>hot</i>, so maybe... maybe it wouldn't be too bad.</p><p>Maybe.</p>
<hr/><p>It was like he was playing the biggest prank of his life.</p><p>In retrospect, it made the trick he'd played on his father a lot less funny, because he wasn't gay at all, and here he was stringing along this kid who, okay, apparently was, and thought John was going to marry him. Not that the kid was bad looking or anything, but he had one thing that John wasn't interested in: a penis.</p><p>In the long run, he guessed he'd do it just to keep Kolya from getting his hands on the kid, but mostly he was pissed about it, especially when he realized that they'd be taking a limo with the creepy Bates guy driving instead of his own red Mustang.</p><p>"So. You're <i>Meredith</i>."</p><p>"It's a family name," he answered a little defensively. "Yes. That's me."</p><p>The way his shoulders hunched told John he'd gotten a lot of teasing about it, but he couldn't help smirking and sweeping his gaze over the kid. "Yeah, well. You're pretty enough to be a girl." He reached out a hand and gently tugged on one blond curl. "Except your mouth."</p><p>That turned down into a sharp frown at him, and he lifted a hand to smack John's hand down. "Well, I'm a guy. That's what your father said you wanted to marry."</p><p>John leaned back in his seat and smirked, ignoring the fact that McKay -- it sounded better than Meredith -- had slapped his fingers like some kind of girl. "Yeah, well, I like my men to be men," he drawled, gaze sliding over the kid, more than a little insulting. "You'll get there over the years I guess."</p><p>"I'll <i>get</i> there?" His chest puffed up with anger, and he lifted his chin angrily. "Look, you said you wanted to marry me. I don't have a choice in this."</p><p>That was interesting. It put them both in the same boat. "And why is that, Meredith?" he drawled, reaching out a hand to let it longer on one thigh. He wasn't about penis, but he knew how to intimidate a virgin, something learned accidentally when he'd been one himself.</p><p>Meredith squirmed slightly, and the muscles of his thigh shifted. "Because my father ordered me to."</p><p>"Yeah? You do everything he tells you to do?" John let a thumb stroke to the inside of that leg, gentle, easy.</p><p>He could see the way Meredith's breath caught, could see the way he went straight-backed. "When it's important, mostly."</p><p>His hand shifted, moved a little higher, slow and easy. Frightening, probably. "And what's so important about this?"</p><p>The kid was so nervous that it was almost bothersome. Almost. "I, uh, he won't let me go to university if I don't."</p><p>"Yeah?" Right. Maybe that was the reason, but John didn't think so. Not really. "Doesn't seem like much. I'd be willing to pay for you to do that in exchange for a few favors..." John smiled, and his hand finally cupped Meredith's crotch. <i>Meredith</i>. It was almost laughable.</p><p>Meredith sucked in a miserable breath. "And your father has strings attached to the deal."</p><p>"What kind of strings?" John let himself stroke, slow and easy. "Maybe I could pull a few for you. Get things more to your liking."</p><p>Meredith chewed at his bottom lip, and he was clearly trying not to shift into John's hand. "I, uh."</p><p>"I could help you out." John was nearly purring. This wasn't so hard. Meredith was sort of pretty, and John had a cock of his own. It wasn't difficult. "Could make things more to your liking. Pay your way into a good university. Fix the rest of the things you've having problems with."</p><p>"I, uh, thought you wanted me to marry you?" Which would moot all of his offers, or make them valid already, yeah, but.</p><p>John shrugged. "It's a beneficial business arrangement. I'd be just as happy if we just..." He made a particularly obscene hand motion and smiled. The kid was gay, and sex was sex, so maybe he'd be happy with a hand job and money, right?</p><p>"It's some kind of shareholder issue. We need your father to stop bribing them. It, uh, look, I don't want to marry you, no offense. Marriage is sort of a big thing, but..."</p><p>"But?" Always a but. Yeah, John should have figured it out, all things considered, but he had a feeling that his father had an ulterior motive of some sort and he wanted to know what it was.</p><p>"But I have no idea what they're agreeing to back there or how pissed off they'll be if we do something else."</p><p>Great. Just great.</p><p>John pulled his hand away and leaned back in his seat, narrowing his eyes as he watched the kid squirm uncomfortably. "You that scared of him?"</p><p>"No, but I have my sister and my mother to think about and if things go to hell for him, they're the ones who'll suffer." He crossed his legs, and glared at John.</p><p>Reaching up, John rubbed at his face and gave a heavy sigh. "Great. Charming." Of course there were other people involved. "So I guess we're getting married then. Unless you'd be more interested in Kolya..."</p><p>"No. No, no, no, no. I don't want to get within ten feet of him.</p><p>It wasn't like John could blame him. "So you're going to make me marry you for your own good then, even though I could get the money for you if you'd just...."</p><p>"What the hell is wrong with you? I thought this was your idea!" His voice got louder, higher, and okay, that was sort of manly if he was a man without balls. "It's not that I prefer one over the other!"</p><p>Leaning back, he let a smirk slide over his mouth. "My father wants to make an honest man of me. I have other inclinations." Pretty simple, a proposition, straightforward. John could let his virtue go, maybe. He might even get hard, considering.</p><p>Meredith folded his arms tightly over his chest. "So, neither of us wants to do this."</p><p>"Got it in one, pretty Mer. I can make ways around it for you, but only if you'll cooperate."</p><p>He canted his eyes towards the bodyguard who was driving the limo, then nodded. "Fine. I'm open for suggestions at this point. You don't want to do it, I don't want to do it, it's a stupid idea."</p><p>"Good. We'll talk about it at the exhibit, then. See what we can figure out."</p><p>Yeah. It was all gonna work out. It would be just fine.</p>
<hr/><p>"So. You'd rather be Sheppard's whore than anything else."</p><p>Meredith had barely stepped into the hotel room, leaving John at the door after allowing himself to be kissed again, a ravenous, terrifying sort of kiss.</p><p>A tempting kiss, an amazing kiss, but the feelings that went with it plummeted in his chest when he turned around and saw his father standing there, arms crossed in anger. "What? What are you talking about?"</p><p>"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Meredith. He offered you money and safety for a fuck." The word alone made Meredith flush, heat rising in his face. "He offered you whoring, and he's not going to come through on that promise. Do you think you're the first young man he's fucked and left?"</p><p>"Look, he doesn't want to get married either! Neither of us wants to get married -- why do we have to?" And it had seemed so logical, such a good idea, talking with John about it.</p><p>His father gave a sound of disgust and reached to the dresser, picking up a fat manila envelope and tossing it on the bed. Glossy black and white pictures spilled out when it burst, too ripe at the seams. There were pictures of John there, with girls, with boys. Meredith didn't have to look at them to see that. "Would you like names? Their families are all big business, or they were before Sheppard got his son involved."</p><p>Meredith clenched his jaw, and started to rifle through them, just idly. "What happened?" There was no way that one person could wreck that much havoc on anything.</p><p>"The same thing that happened to you today. He made an <i>agreement</i> with them," Roderick spat. "An agreement that he never fulfilled. He fucked them and he told his father he wasn't interested anymore. That's what he does."</p><p>"What does that have to do with anything at all?" So, so the guy got around. It didn't make sense to Meredith why he needed to marry him for anything.</p><p>His father sat on the bed and tugged his tie open, watching Meredith with that look that said he was stupid, so <i>stupid</i>. "It all began with the kind of offensive his father's been using on McKay, Inc., Meredith. They offer this as a way out, and instead, they choose to ruin a man's family as well as his business when children like you aren't bright enough to tell the man no."</p><p>"So, what changes if I actually go through with it?" He still didn't believe that his father was telling the truth, didn't want to. John had seemed so... so very real, actually.</p><p>"You'll be living in California instead of Detroit. They have community property laws. Sheppard's agreed that you won't have to sign a prenup. You'll actually have something left in return for your body, which is more than we've got now, Meredith, and he'll put in writing his promise to leave the business and the family alone."</p><p>"But he doesn't want to be married to me...." And Meredith didn't want to be married to him, and there had to be an easier way to do it.</p><p>Like taking a hit out on the older Sheppard.</p><p>"That's right, Mer." He'd never seen his father look so tired. "He doesn't want to be married to you. He wants to fuck you and get away with everything, leave us destitute because you believe him."</p><p>Meredith closed his eyes. "Why can't you do something?"</p><p>"You don't think I've tried? They've got me over a barrel. He even knows about your mother, and he's managed to hinder most of her connections, as well."</p><p>"So you want me to go off with his son and just. You think that's going to solve everything?"</p><p>"I think having a few contracts will be better than having nothing. We're all going to be on the streets if you don't. Do you want that, for Jeannie? For your mother?" His father had never liked him, had always held the fact that Jeannie was a girl against her, but he obviously adored their mother.</p><p>So it was basically time to throw Meredith to the Wolves. Sheppards. "Fine. Fine. Just... keep him away from me until the wedding, then."</p><p>The fact that Roderick seemed grateful made Mer feel nauseated. "We'll go back home. I'll tell them your mother's not well. That will give you plenty of distance in the mean time."</p><p>"Fine." He kept his arms crossed over his chest, trying to shake the feeling that, yes, maybe his father actually meant how desperate they were. That he really <i>was</i> the last option. "When's it supposed to be?"</p><p>"Five days. They're making all of the arrangements. Meredith..." He looked up, thin lips pressed together. "You and I, we've never... we've always been at odds. We haven't been close." He took a deep breath. "If there's anything...."</p><p>"Stop calling me a goddamned whore when I'm doing this for the family. Just because you gave me incomplete information doesn't mean I was trying to whore myself out. At least not anymore than you seem determined to do." It would have been easier if he'd had any inkling of something he'd specifically done wrong, other than simply having been born.</p><p>His father's face tightened again, shifted into anger. He looked away, and that made Meredith breathe out, a shaky release. "Fine." As if that was that, made simple and easy. "I'll have Eugene get plane tickets for the trip home, then."</p><p>"Fine." Then he had a few days to drive himself crazy thinking about what was going to happen.</p><p>He didn't think it was going to be nearly enough.</p>
<hr/><p>Meredith hadn't shown up.</p><p>John had worked like hell to scrabble together enough money to put the kid through at least six years of MIT and support his mother and sister simultaneously, and the brat hadn't even bothered to come up to his hotel room.</p><p>There had to be some reason behind it, had to be, and the reason was named Will Sheppard, and Will Sheppard was an asshole.</p><p>All he'd wanted to do was make life easier for everyone involved. No marriage, no starving to death, hey, everyone was happy. So, either the bodyguard had ratted on them -- a possibility -- or his own father had pulled the plug on what'd been an awesome idea.</p><p>Either way, John was pissed, and he full intended to let his dad have an earful, right up until he ran into the stone wall that was Acastus Kolya, pervert extraordinaire.</p><p>Perfect.</p><p>"Kolya," John gritted out, trying to keep his hands from balling into fists.</p><p>"John." Kolya took a back step, and they both knew it was more for John's benefit than his own. "I was just coming down to tell you that your beau had to skip town until the wedding. Seems his mother's on her deathbed again."</p><p>Oh. "Really." Why didn't he believe that? "Well, he mentioned that she wasn't exactly well. You and Dad wouldn't be using that to your advantage, now would you?"</p><p>"What advantage do I have if your husband-to-be leaves town?" Kolya kept standing there like a wall, a wall John knew he couldn't very well get past.</p><p>"Right offhand? I'm not sure, but there's always an angle with you, so I wouldn't put it past you." John shifted to the right, and Kolya shifted with him. What the hell. It had been worth a shot.</p><p>It was always worth that.</p><p>"It was as much as surprise to us as it was to you. They've gone back to Alberta until the wedding."</p><p>His stomach dropped somewhere around his ankles, but John kept his smirk up all the same. "Well. I guess you'd want to see your mom before you got married. I sure would." His own mother had finally slit her wrists after his father had remarried for the fourth time, all the way up to the elbows. Just thinking about it made John sick so of course it was the first thing that John thought of.</p><p>"I'd help you, but your father would kill me if I killed you." Kolya flashed him a smile, all wide teeth, and John wanted to punch them out.</p><p>He'd have to settle for being a bastard instead. "He's just your type, isn't he? Young, pretty, looks more like thirteen than eighteen. That is what makes your dick hard, right? Shame he's mine."</p><p>It was almost worth it for the way that Kolya's face twisted up. "You don't even want him. We both know that."</p><p>"Given a choice between shackling myself to the kid and letting you have him?" John leaned in close. "I'll fuck him three times a night if that's what it takes to make sure you don't get him."</p><p>It was hard to tell if the guy was more torn up that John was taking something just to keep it from him, or that the guy liked the mental image John had just given him. "You should just save yourself the trouble."</p><p>"I kind of like trouble. Now, if you'll let me by, I need to have a talk with dear old dad, if it's all the same. Good to see you, Kolya."</p><p>Kolya smiled slightly, bowed, and stepped aside to let him through. "Have a pleasant chat, then."</p><p>God, that made him nervous. "Don't worry. I'm sure we will." Yeah. Or not, but it wasn't like there was a lot John could do one way or the other.</p><p>Stiffening his shoulders, he headed further down the hall and slipped into his dad's front office, eyeing the empty assistant's desk. There was no way Chuck would be wife number five, John figured, and didn't bother knocking when he pushed open the door to Will's office.</p><p>He wished he had bothered knocking, actually, because his father was turned to face the picture window and that <i>was</i> Chuck kneeling between his legs and Jesus, there were some things people never needed to see.</p><p>"Hey, hey, learn to knock!"</p><p>"Whoa, whoa! Holy fuck!" Spinning around, John slapped both hands over his face. "Jesus CHRIST, Dad! You've only been married to Barbie for eight months!"</p><p>"Get out! It can't be that important!" He had a hand on the back of Chuck's head and John wished he'd never seen that. Some things, a guy wasn't supposed to see, no matter how old he got. Since the better part of valor was discretion, John got out and settled in at Chuck's desk. Geeze. He was never, ever getting over the trauma.</p><p>Ever.</p><p>He still settled in to wait. He wasn't sure for a minute if they were in there still going at it, or if Chuck was just getting himself together before he stepped outside. The short length of time that he had to wait told him which one it was, and Chuck didn't even try to reclaim his desk as he hurried past him. Probably too mortified, all things considered.</p><p>John waited another minute or so before going to the door and knocking on it, listening for his father's voice before stepping inside and shutting it behind him. He managed about three seconds of calm before he couldn't stand it anymore. "Jesus <i>Christ</i>, Dad! You haven't even been with Barbie a whole year!"</p><p>"Her name is Barbara," Will began.</p><p>"Barbara, Barbie, fucking she-whore, whatever! <i>Eight</i>. <i>Months</i>. And you've got Chuck on his knees!"</p><p>"Hey, I was just giving what you and Kolya seem all fascinated with a... a test drive." He flashed John a smile. "Forget it ever happened." Yeah, and John smelled bitterness over the prenup on its way. "What do you want?"</p><p>"Why'd Meredith go back to Alberta?" Might as well outright ask. If it was his father's idea, if there was something else to it, he'd probably admit it. Will tended to spill to John, something about him looking like his mother. Guilt was a bitch.</p><p>"His father said that his wife was sick, and they needed to be at home as much as possible 'in case.' In case she dies, I guess. That's kind of a shame." Like hell he thought it was.</p><p>"Because you didn't have the honor of driving her to it?"</p><p>So. Meredith was obviously on the run. What was the money John could put together for him compared to the money he could get with a guarantee of no prenup? Huh. He felt stupid.</p><p>It was a hell of a lot easier to marry John and get fucked by him that way, and end up taken for half of everything he had, John guessed, but he'd liked the whole idea of money for no long term trouble.</p><p>His father sucked in a sharp breath. "Look, I'm just trying to do right with you. Settle down. You can't be me."</p><p>"Yeah? I don't even <i>know</i> this guy. He's almost four years younger than me, barely even eighteen. He's hardly out of training pants, Dad! You think that's going to work out? Huh?"</p><p>"He's a genius. I mean, certifiable genius. One of those boy-wonder types. Look, you get to make it work," his father insisted, and flashed him a sharp smile.</p><p>"Like you did with Mom? Or Gina? Or Patty? How about Katherine-just-call-me-Kit? It's a miracle I remember Barbie's <i>name</i>," John snapped. "You guaranteed them no prenup. You're after his father's company down to the last drop or you wouldn't have arranged all of this, so what's the deal, Dad?"</p><p>"This one's personal." And while his father probably wouldn't tell him how personal, exactly, it was more than John had known when he'd started.</p><p>He'd have to do some digging. John wasn't above getting his hands dirty, if he had to. Necessity dictated it on occasion. "So they should just feel lucky that you're going to let them keep what they've got." He knew his dad wasn't always that kind. He was a shark, especially once he got a scent of blood.</p><p>"I figure I can leave them the company they have, and just sort of... ruin them personally a little. That was why, if you didn't want to marry the kid, Kolya would've. It's about tearing McKay senior apart, and let's just leave it at that."</p><p>Yeah. Yeah.</p><p>John could be a selfish bastard, and maybe he'd been angry earlier. Maybe he'd figured the kid had run out on him, but maybe it had been his old man instead. He'd have to make a few phone calls, but he was going to get to the bottom of it.</p><p>"Okay. You making all the arrangements?" He sounded stiff, but he couldn't help it.</p><p>"Of course." There was a flash of smile again, disconcerting. Yeah, he knew his father well enough to know that he was probably going to end up with a huge, tacky wedding despite the fact that he didn't want one at all.</p><p>Might as well suck it up.</p><p>It wasn't like he could change anything, one way or another.</p>
<hr/><p>He wished his mother was there.</p><p>That his mother or Jeannie or someone other than his father was standing on the other side of the room, frowning at him as he straightened his tie again. Meredith didn't even know why he was straightening his tie. It didn't matter, because he didn't care how he looked for the Sheppard that he was going to be marrying.</p><p>Oh, god, Marriage.</p><p>Just the thought of it sent his stomach sinking down into his shoes, made him quake. He hadn't slept since they'd left Detroit five days ago, had barely been able to think. Thank God for Carson Beckett, his best friend, to whom he'd told everything. He'd been stupid and pitiful and fretful about it, and Carson had kissed him and sworn that he'd run away with Meredith if he wanted. Meredith had said no, no matter how badly he had wanted to leave with Carson.</p><p>He really did. Anything other than being married off to some stranger who apparently went through people like water. Being married to him, Meredith figured, wouldn't change things at all. Except that it would tie him to someone he didn't know, didn't want. Didn't know what to do with at all, either.</p><p>A hand landed almost gently on his shoulder, Meredith's father standing behind him. "Ready?" he asked, and Meredith wanted so badly to say no. They'd made the trip to Windsor, literally just across the river from Detroit, and they'd stayed overnight. John hadn't called, or even tried to see him. Nothing.</p><p>He should have known it was all a ruse. It was a ruse that was going to turn into a sham, and he should have run away with Carson.</p><p>"As much as I can be."</p><p>His father drew in a deep breath. "You're a good boy, Meredith. You're saving your mother, and this family."</p><p>"I'm marrying a bastard." He shifted, straightened his tie again, and turned to face his father. There was just nothing for it, no solution.</p><p>"I promise you. I'll make the best of it, Meredith. I'll take care of it, and I'll get you out of it as soon as possible."</p><p>Just like his father had gotten him into it. "Fine." He lifted his chin a little. Pride. He could still have his pride, even if he was going to hate the bastard because he had lied to Meredith. "Let's get this sham on the road."</p><p>There was that squeeze of his shoulder again, just a little, and Meredith wanted to scream. He wanted to, but he didn't, just steeled himself and pulled away from Roderick's heavy touch and moved towards the door. It shouldn't have been a surprise when it opened before he could get to it, revealing John Sheppard looking rakish and not at all like a proper groom. He looked like he'd been out drinking and come in before he'd managed to dry out properly.</p><p>"Heellloo, Mer'dith."</p><p>"Oh, god. John, you're..." A mess was what he was. Drunk before they could even get anywhere. Meredith didn't know what to think or where to start.</p><p>"Dear God, Sheppard, couldn't your father control you long enough to at least have this be semi-respectable?" Roderick choked out.</p><p>John strolled into the room, all loose hips and strutting motions, practically obscene. Meredith could see funny sparse black chest hair in the open vee of his white shirt, and it made him want to open his own shirt and scowl at the bareness of it. "He's not so good at controlling me, to be honest."</p><p>"Apparently we should trade dads." Meredith hovered back, eyeing John's shirt and his ass and god, he was good looking. "I didn't think this was going to be happening here in the hotel room."</p><p>That smirk thinned out John's mouth, made it twist unpleasantly. "I just wanted to be sure I was getting what I'm going to be paying for is all. Didn't want your dad to do something funny, like land me with some fourteen year old cunt."</p><p>Get what he was going to be paying for. Oh god, he was in hell. He was in hell. He rubbed a hand over his face. "What the hell is <i>wrong</i> with you? Are you inhuman?"</p><p>"I dunno. Maybe. Are you a greedy whore?" John moved close, towering over him, outweighing him, making him uncomfortable. Meredith was almost grateful when his father pulled John away from him.</p><p>"Keep your nasty mouth shut!" Apparently, it was all right for Roderick to speak nastily to Meredith, but not anyone else.</p><p>Oh god. "Can we just get this over with?" Or maybe his father would back out. Meredith didn't care. He could still go home and run away with Carson. It wasn't like Carson would imply he was anybody's whore in any way, shape or form.</p><p>"Might as well. It's not like I'm going to get out of it whole, am I?" John pulled himself loose from Roderick's grasp. "C'mon, McKay. Getting it over with so I can get a little drunker sounds good to me."</p><p>"I don't want to do it any more than you do! Except that you, you, you make promises and don't go through with them and..." Meredith started towards the door, and John followed after him.</p><p>"Yeah? Well you didn't show up," John said, pushing Meredith's shoulder. He stumbled forward, nearly falling flat on his face. "So now we're getting married instead. Yeah?"</p><p>If he was going to fall on his face, Meredith didn't want to be there when he hit. "I didn't show up because I had to go home!"</p><p>"Yeah, well, I heard better. Your mother's not dying, which is what I was told, and now instead we're getting married, so shut up and let's get it over with."</p><p>Great. Just great.</p><p>"Fine. Fine, fantastic." He wrapped his arms tight around his chest, and walked fast to keep up with John's drunken stumble.</p><p>It was going to be the worst day of his life.</p>
<hr/><p>Six hours later, Meredith was almost certain that he was in some bitter, vicious level of hell reserved only for the young and stupid. The wedding had been a fiasco, the justice had been completely appalled, and then they'd gone back to Detroit -- <i>Detroit!!</i> -- for their honeymoon. They were supposed to go on to California in the morning, but that was tomorrow.</p><p>There was still the wedding night to get through.</p><p>The wedding night that he wished he was drunk through. Now that their fathers were out of the picture -- or not, because Meredith had horrifying mental images of them pressing cupped ears to the door -- it was just them, and Meredith didn't see why they had to do anything.</p><p>Or why he had to have sex with a drunk asshole.</p><p>Maybe he didn't. Maybe John would just forget he was there and pass out, or... or something. Or anything, actually, except sitting there and brooding, looking furious. Meredith was a little worried.</p><p>Okay. A lot worried. He didn't know enough about anal sex to fill his own coffee cup except what Carson had told him. They'd gone to boarding school together, true, and everyone always said boarding schools were places of pure perversion, but Meredith had never found that to be true.</p><p>At worst, he'd gotten a lot of teasing for having a girl's name.</p><p>It was ominous that his drunk husband was standing at the door to their hotel room, locking it behind them. Meredith loosened his tie, eyeing John's slightly swaying backside. "Maybe you want to sleep that off."</p><p>"And maybe I don't. Maybe I want a taste of what you're giving that Ca-arson guy." John had been drunk through the wedding and he'd kept drinking with dinner, Meredith's father scandalized, John's seeming worried. "I got pictures."</p><p>"Pictures." Pictures of him and Carson, and what the hell? He was spying on Meredith and they weren't even married then? "He's a school friend! What the hell were you doing spying on me? I've never done anything with him, even if he's ten times a better person than you are!" He was so drunk he couldn't even say a simple two syllable name right.</p><p>"Got pictures," John mumbled, stepping forward. "That wasn't any kinda school friend kiss. Not even close, McKay. First you make out like you're some kinda desperate virgin, get me into position for giving you a payoff, and then you decide it's worth more to marry me, but you're gonna fuck around some first. 's how it goes, isn't it? 's typical."</p><p>None of that had ever crossed his mind. He didn't know why he was trying to justify himself, but maybe it was that tiny voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like his mother, telling him that he needed to try his best and that would be enough. Well, it didn't fucking well seem to be enough! "What? No, look, I've never had sex, and I went home to see my mother because now I'm <i>married</i> to you, which I didn't want to do in the first place!"</p><p>"Yeah, I've heard that before. Barbie was a-all about not needin' a prenup." Barbie? When had toys come into the conversation? "An' that's how it ends up, so we're all kinda screwed. So if I'm screwed, you're gonna be." John fumbled his way towards Meredith, and Mer honestly hoped he'd trip and land flat on his nose.</p><p>He took a back step, and halfway put his hands out. "Look, we're going to have to live with each other, so maybe you should sleep this off and we can start over tomorrow."</p><p>"You think you c'n explain better then?"</p><p>This was all so very very <i>bad</i>, Sheppard advancing on him, and he was so close that Meredith was thinking about scrambling over the bed to put that width between them.</p><p>When the back of one leg bumped the bed, he did that. He was sober, even if he didn't want to be. He could probably outrun Sheppard. "When you're not drunk, yes! I was saying goodbye to a good friend, which apparently you wouldn't understand."</p><p>Sheppard mumbled something about Barbie again, and wow. He moved fast for a drunk guy, because he was on the bed after Meredith so fast that Mer didn't even have time to catch his breath. He just found himself tossed back into pillows with a very manly shriek. Very manly.</p><p>Oh, GOD. Oh, god, because he started to push himself up onto his hands and knees and John was already there. "What the hell are you DOING?"</p><p>"What's it look like, McKay?" There were fingers, dipping in at his shirt collar, tugging at it, his tie long since gone. His jacket was by the door, and why had he taken that off, again? Oh. Yes. He'd figured John would <i>pass out</i>, the drunk bastard. "'m takin' care of business."</p><p>"What? No, no, we should really do this sober because I have no idea what I'm doing and..." And because it was polite, better to wait, because wasn't sex supposed to be good? Something people wanted, but he didn't want John tugging at his shirt collar like that, popping buttons while he tried to buck John off of him. "Let go of me!"</p><p>"If you're going to whore for Carson, then you're gonna whore for me," John murmured, giving a bite to the back of Meredith's neck that made him yelp as his shirt came down further.</p><p>"I'm not a whore!" Oh, god, he'd just <i>kissed</i> Carson, a chaste thing that had just felt good, and he should have run away with him, he should have. He could have survived all right in Scotland. Meredith twisted, trying to crawl forwards, away from John. "Get off of me!"</p><p>He could feel John getting hard against him, and oh, that was a bad sign, a terrible sign, a fucking <i>awful</i> sign. "You telling me you didn't fuck him?" John asked, and it was obvious he was so drunk it'd be a miracle if he got it up.</p><p>"I only ever kissed him! What the hell is wrong with you?" Maybe he could just get a little hard, just, sort of useless hard, that was all he could be back there, and Meredith dug his hands into the bedding to try to pull himself forwards and away from his new drunk bastard of a husband.</p><p>It didn't work at all.</p><p>"You're lying!"</p><p>He wasn't, but John was ripping his shirt and working on his pants, and Meredith was starting to wish he had signed up for that Tai Kwon Do class, after all. Really, then he could bash John over the head and run.</p><p>He did try a deft donkey kick, and he twisted to try to punch at John, his arms, his shoulders, anything he could hit because apparently the drunk bastard wasn't going to listen. He could fight him tooth and nail, make him miserable. If he was lucky, he'd manage to kick him in the balls. Meredith didn't think he had that kind of luck.</p><p>"God dammit!" John cursed, and smacked the back of his head. It wasn't painful so much as it was shocking, and Meredith went still just long enough for John to get his pants down around his thighs. That fact made him shriek.</p><p>"Stop it! Stop it! I'll, I'll..." He'd yell, which he was already doing, and fight, and Meredith didn't think he could kill anyone, but he tried to elbow John hard, and when John pushed a knee between Meredith's thighs, Meredith tried to crush them closed against that knee.</p><p>"You'll what?" Sheppard's voice was slurring even further, and Meredith sobbed, unable to stop it. If he'd just, just pass out. If he'd just <i>stop</i>... "Yell? Please? Don't? Stop?"</p><p>"Stop! Get off of me!" John was bigger than him, heavier, more muscled, and Meredith wasn't strong enough, couldn't do a pushup with someone that heavy against his back. Every attempt to pull himself away from John just left him more tangled up with the bedding and John. He could feel Sheppard's breath on the back of his neck, hot and damp and terrifying, and even more terrifying was the slurp he heard and then a delving that made his own breath come in sharp, shrill gasps.</p><p>Fingers, barely wet, sliding down his back, to his ass crack, and there wasn't any getting away from them because he was flat out on the bed with John on top of him and oh fuck they were pushing in, there were <i>fingers</i> in his ass and it hurt, and John didn't seem to care that he was yelling, trying to get away from John again even though the headboard was all of three inches from his face.</p><p>"Not foolin' me," John mumbled. "Got pictures. Not... you're not..." Meredith couldn't imagine what sorts of pictures John thought he had, but it wasn't him, it wasn't, and he couldn't stop babbling, swearing that it wasn't. It wasn't, it wasn't, but that didn't stop John. Didn't stop him, and Mer hated him. He hated him so much.</p><p>He hated John and his father and John's father, hated them all, hated Carson for not making him leave with him, because he couldn't get out from under John and the fingers were shoving in and out and in and out, pulling at his ass cheeks, making his asshole burn. He wanted to scream, and all he could do was shake and plead, and that wasn't getting him anywhere. The fight was all gone out of him, leaving him a shuddering trembling mess, and he felt John shift away for just a moment. Just a moment, and he thought, thought he could be grateful for that, but then there was <i>slick</i> instead of spit, deeply wet, and that was almost a relief. Almost, except John was coming over him, and Meredith felt it, oh, God, felt <i>it</i>.</p><p>No work-up, no kissing or petting or anything else, just the feeling of John's dick pressing against his asshole, one hand smooshing his left ass cheek to the side, John's thighs pinning his down while Meredith tried to worm his way out one last time, but John was pushing in and it was too late. It was too late, and it <i>hurt</i>, forcing a choked sob up out of his throat even as he felt his shoulders fold in, hunching. Meredith couldn't stop it, either. Once the first hysterical breath worked its way loose, others seemed to follow it automatically, making him shake as Sheppard invaded him, deep and steady, moaning while he did it.</p><p>It wasn't just hurt, aching, but it felt crippling, made his legs shake and his back knot up and he couldn't move. Even if he did try, John would probably follow him and it, god, he hated his life, hated that that was his new existence, bastard fucking drunk and god, his ass was burning and he couldn't stop sobbing, choking, babbling at John for all the good it didn't do.</p><p>Begging.</p><p>Begging, because it hurt, and he was <i>crying</i>, and he hated crying. He hated crying, and he hated hurting, and John was doing things to him, things with his penis, and Meredith couldn't catch his breath. He hadn't had an asthma attack in years, not since that thing with the lemon tree during their Florida vacation, but, but, but he couldn't, it was...</p><p>It was impossible to breathe, to think, to move past gasping in air, shoulders shaking, body still trying to get away from John when he knew it was impossible, but John had to finish soon, didn't he? He had to, had to, had to, it had to be over, didn't it?</p><p>When Sheppard slumped against his back, Meredith didn't move. He just stayed there, flat and sticky and aching, and hoped that something would change.</p><p>But it didn't. Nothing changed and Sheppard stayed there, dick still up Meredith's ass, unmoving. He had a fleeting fear that the other man was dead, but the rise and fall of his chest against Meredith's back was a give away that he was still alive. He'd just passed out like the drunken rapist knave that he was.</p><p>Carefully, Meredith managed to wiggle loose, wincing and whimpering when John's cock pulled out of him. He hurt all over, and he didn't want to think about that, not, not at all. He didn't know what to do. Sheppard sprawled out near the edge of the bed, still dressed, once Meredith was out from beneath him.</p><p>He had no idea what to do. But he was married to that, and that was going to be his life until he got out of it. Drunken rapist bastard, and all Meredith could think was that he wanted a shower and he wanted to get out of there, and there was nowhere to go at all.</p><p>Nowhere to go except the bathroom, and so he shifted, rolled, moved his way stiffly off the mattress, clutching at the ache in his lower belly and stumbling towards it. It felt as though he had to <i>go</i>, and that was something he didn't think he ever wanted to do again now.</p><p>It was horribly overrated, over talked up, agonizing. His dick was half-hard, in a vague way, like it was as confused about what to do as he was, and the discomfort as he walked to the bathroom made it fade away more.</p><p>Yeah. He definitely had to go, so he lost his pants somewhere along the way, underwear fumbled loose a few steps later, and he found the toilet, sitting down and whimpering. Meredith couldn't seem to make that stop, even when squelchy, damp farts spilled out into the bowl.</p><p>Oh god. Oh god, he was going to be sick, and he was going to hide in the bathroom forever, because there was no way he could face Sheppard, John, ever again. Not after what had just happened, what he'd said and called Meredith. But he'd have to.</p><p>He'd have to, and that was in no way or shape fair. He'd given... He'd done this even though he hated it and didn't want to do it. He'd tried to stop John from doing it, and another of those gaseous belches of lube happened, and that was when Meredith realized that crying was a bigger option than he had thought it would be.</p><p>He hadn't wanted to do any of it, start to finish, fraud of a marriage to being under John like that, and he was going to have to keep on... doing things he didn't want to do. And he wasn't getting a damned thing out of it. Nothing. It was all for his father and his mother and his sister and nothing at all for him because he still wasn't getting to go to the university he wanted to go to, that he should have set off for over a year ago, and there was no end to it all in sight.</p><p>There was nothing. Nothing at all, and no reason to stay. He'd been stupid to agree to all of this. He should have never... just. Never have.</p><p>None of it. All.</p>
<hr/><p>His head was going to fall off, and if he rolled over, John knew that he would puke. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten so drunk. He was pretty sure it was the month that Chaya Sar had run off to fuck Lorne, the PI he'd had looking into the shady dealings she had with those Buddhist monks. In fact, he wasn't sure he'd actually been that drunk then, either.</p><p>No, this was amazingly, stunningly drunk, this was an anvil on his skull drunk, and he had no way to combat it, because he was afraid to move and see just where he was. He was pretty sure there was a bed involved, and that he was still dressed.</p><p>A draft wafted over his skin, and John revised that opinion.</p><p>Mostly dressed.</p><p>In John's opinion, mostly dressed was like mostly dead. It was all <i>bad</i>, and implied things that meant opening his eyes was distinctly necessary no matter how much it was going to hurt. Not opening his eyes was no longer an option, so he pried one lid open and promptly slammed it shut again, shuddering as nausea welled up in his throat.</p><p>Ugh.</p><p>Okay, he could be a man about it. He could open his eyes, and he could make himself sit up in bed and he could figure out why the hell he was only partially dressed and just where he was.</p><p>Pulling in one shallow, uneasy breath, John eased his eyes open slowly, dizzyingly. Okay. Comfortingly anonymous hotel room. That was good. Open fly. That was not good. Alone. That was good. Smelled like sex. Not good.</p><p>By the time he got his eyes open, puking had become something of a necessity. John stumbled up and looked around, finding the bathroom and hitting the toilet on his knees just in time.</p><p>Hell of a night. Hell of a night, and he'd clearly gotten laid in a cheap and skanky way, because he was still dressed and he smelled like sex afterwards, not to mention that his lay was long gone. That or he'd jerked off on himself, but John was pretty sure he hadn't.</p><p>With a moan, he laid his head on the toilet seat and prayed that he would either die or cool off enough that it would be bearable. Either one was good for him. He'd worry about everything else later.</p><p>It took him a while to get his head together, to let the cool of the toilet seat seep into his cheek. His whole body hurt, so he had to have been drinking straight up vodka or something for a whole twenty-four hours. There was no sane reason for him to do that, except for his father's usual machinat--</p><p>Oh.</p><p>Yeah.</p><p>McKay.</p><p>He'd started drinking when Ronon had brought him the envelope. Anonymous delivery, some kind of courier, and John wouldn't have known the difference if he'd answered the door instead of his friend. It wouldn't have changed anything. It certainly wouldn't change the contents -- pictures of McKay kissing some guy, blurry but still good enough to tell who he was. The later pictures were a little worse, all told, not so clear, but it was obvious enough what they were doing in them.</p><p>He figured they'd come from his father, trying to make him more miserable than he'd already been.</p><p>So he'd started to drink, and yeah, it'd been a hell of a bad idea, but drunk seemed to be the way to get through a wedding he didn't want to do in the first place. Which just left him to wonder where McKay was.</p><p>"M'Kay," John called, and just the sound of his own voice made his head throb, made him breathe a little more carefully. "Know you're here." Except he didn't, did he? After all, if McKay had shown up drunk, John probably would have left his ass flat as far as recovery went.</p><p>There was no answer, either, so he laid his head back down on the rim of the toilet again, closed his eyes. He'd definitely gotten laid. He stank of it, and he needed a shower, posthaste. As soon as he was sure he could get up standing and stay that way. Might take a while, he figured, and glanced down at himself.</p><p>He stopped fighting the urge to puke again.</p><p>It wasn't a lot of blood, he thought later, but even a little was too much, and Jesus. No wonder McKay -- Sheppard, whichever -- wasn't still in the room. God, how drunk had he been, anyway?</p><p>He didn't remember it. Didn't remember any of it, just that he had a messy dick in none of the fun ways, and no McKay-Sheppard there to tell him just what'd happened. He had to find him. He wouldn't have gone far, would he? Maybe for a coffee, or he'd gotten another hotel room. That's what John would have done, and it wasn't like the guy hadn't gotten around.</p><p>Okay, he'd obviously been unnecessarily forceful, and yeah, he didn't like the look of things, but he couldn't have gone far, right?</p><p>Right, John figured, and managed to strip down to skin and climb in the ridiculously small hotel shower.</p><p>McKay would be just down the hall. It wouldn't take long to find him at all.</p>
<hr/>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When a guy put an ad in the newspaper looking for talented coders, he had a mental image ready.</p><p>He had the mental image of a guy, out of shape, vaguely orange fingertips, bag of skittles in his pocket, or the mental image of that sleek, too hip for his own damn good kind of guy. Rodney didn't like those types too much. They were all show and no go, big talkers and slow actual coders. Radek was a little of each category, and he was balancing a bag of Cheetos on top of his head, because the crinkling noise helped him think. About what, Rodney wasn't sure, but he kept peeking over the top edge of his monitor at Radek to see that the bag was still there on top of his head and it was still unopened. At that point, Rodney was pretty sure it was all a mind game.</p><p>Damn him. Rodney was going to reach across and <i>take</i> those Cheetos. They were going to be his orangey goodness in about five minutes, or three crackles. Whichever came first.</p><p>"Ah-ha!" Radek yelled, moment of brilliance finally achieved, and he spun around in his chair, starting with one keyboard and going to the next, the Cheetos dropping off of his head and onto the floor.</p><p>Well, fuck. He was going to have to get his own bag, or wait until Radek got them off of the floor, because Rodney wasn't desperate enough for a snack that he wanted to crawl on the floor. The cleaning people needed to get up there, because he knew he'd seen a dead water bug under Radek's desk, no doubt attracted by the promise of crumby sweet and savory snack goodness. "That had better be a really good aha, because I'm the one making the adjustments to the dependent over the age of twenty-one coding."</p><p>"Is <i>excellent</i> ah-ha, is near Eureka equivalent in tax code software work. I have found proper way to incorporate thirty dollar telephone refund allowance to best efficiency." Radek smirked at him over the edge of his monitor. "The one that was defeating you at three o'clock this morning."</p><p>It hadn't defeated him. He'd just been so tired that his eyes had been crossing, and the whole world had been reenacting one of those magic eye pictures. "Lucky shot," Rodney accused, getting up out of his chair. "Let me see that."</p><p>There was no denying the full-fledged glee as Radek turned the monitor so that Rodney would be able to see it properly. "I? Am tax <i>god</i>," he declared, reaching down and snagging his bag of Cheetos to rip it open and delve inside. "Ha!"</p><p>Ugh, and it was almost <i>elegant</i>, as much as code could be. Rodney started to read over the code, and then reached for Radek's mouse to scroll down. "Oh, yeah, you're such a tax god that you didn't even close out the code. Great work. Geeze, this is what happens when I waste late nights trying to work through something..."</p><p>"Hello? Still have found solution. Seriously, McKay. Have more coffee. Better yet, we will stop here and go have nap. Preferably before killing one another." The fact that they were both jittering from the caffeine and nearly black-eyed with exhaustion certainly said that wasn't a bad idea.</p><p>"I don't know, I could probably do it and get away with it." Rodney leaned over to steal a Cheeto, eyeing the code more. Dammit, <i>dammit</i>, that was perfect. "I watch enough CSI."</p><p>"Eh, you could not. You would forget to bleach your pipes, and single blood drop would give you away. They would dismantle your entire house and office, because according to the great Rodney Sheppard, Canadians are infinitely better than Americans, and so." Radek smirked and wiped orange-crusted fingers on the hem of his t-shirt, leaving behind traces of chemical orange.</p><p>"Damn right." Rodney tilted his head, staring at the screen. "Damn. This, this is good work, Radek. I'm calling it quits. Apparently the Czechs are in competition with Canada for being better than Americans today."</p><p>"<i>Every</i> day, my friend. Go home. Rest your tired eyes and tireder brain. We will be back this afternoon, I think, yes? And then again tomorrow. But for the evening, we will call out for bad Chinese and code again until our eyes are popping out of our heads. Is a shame Monday will eventually arrive."</p><p>"Monday isn't any different than the rest of the week." Except, he had to do things he hated, like talk to distributors and handle package designs. Honestly, who thought he gave a fuck about package designs? Every year it was the same thing, and oh fuck he had a meeting on Monday with the advertising agency.</p><p>Hell. Hell was driving down to Detroit.</p><p>Just thinking about it made Rodney twitchy. Detroit was next door to the ninth circle, in his opinion, the tenth circle, if there could be such a thing. Going to Chicago for the packaging had been the original plan, but a larger company had bought out the first and the location had changed. If it hadn't been too late, Rodney would have changed companies entirely just to avoid that place.</p><p>"True, true, however, on weekends, phone does not ring off the hook. Peter is not here to monitor caffeine intake and interrupt work."</p><p>"That's what I get for hiring a guy going to school to become a registered nurse to answer my phones." Rodney turned the monitor back around for Radek, and twisted away from their messy workspace. "Right. I'll see you later tonight, then. I need to get some sleep sometime, because Monday is Ad Agency Day."</p><p>"Ooo." Even Radek seemed to think Ad Agency Day was right next door to hell from the look on his face, so Rodney didn't figure he could be blamed for his reluctant. "I'm deeply grateful this is you and not me. Have a good flight. Face the terrifying Americans with fury and righteousness for us, Rodney."</p><p>"Don't worry, I will." And he'd get in at least another night of almost therapeutic coding before he had to set foot in that bastard stepchild of a country.</p><p>Radek was watching him, though, and that look... Rodney knew that look. "Seriously, Sheppard. You will be all right? You... You do not look..."</p><p>"I just hate Detroit, all right?" He rolled his shoulders slightly, and tipped his chin up. "I have bad associations with the place. It'll be fine. If I don't go, you don't get to pay for that nice car you have in the parking garage because we won't be shipping the new tax year on time."</p><p>His friend peered at him over the edges of his lenses. "Yes, yes, and I see oh so much by way of daylight in that nice car. Well. In any case. Let me know if you need someone to, eh, swim with the fishes, yes? And I will take care of matters here while you are gone."</p><p>"Right. Don't harass the secretarial staff." At least, not any more than Rodney did himself. He reached for his laptop case. His laptop itself had been tucked away about an hour ago, before Radek's Cheeto balancing tricks. He had a good balance to life himself, a good, no, great company under his control. "I'll see you Tuesday or so."</p><p>"Tuesday," Radek agreed, waving at Rodney as he grabbed his coffee cup, slurping down the last cold drops. "I will take care of everything here. Will shut down, also, while you go about your business. Do not do anything I would not do, Sheppard."</p><p>"That's actually a pretty wide latitude for action there, Radek." He gave one last vague wave, and closed the door to the working space of the office, heading down the hallway, past other parts of his facility.</p><p>He was going to miss Radek, but it wasn't like he couldn't come home. He just had to go to Detroit, and even if it was right next door to hell, well.</p><p>He'd live.</p><hr/><p>Some new design firm had bought out his usual package design people. That was the reason for the change in venue from the standard Chicago to Detroit, and the whole thing made Rodney twitchy.</p><p>He'd liked Chicago, after a fashion. Well, he liked the food a lot, and he liked the way the whole city seemed angry and proud at the same time, and he'd liked the sharpness of everything and the culture that was on almost every corner. Rodney thought of Detroit, and he thought of cars, smog, and fire. Blood, his own, and he wasn't going to think about that or the way his life had gone to hell in an elevator with a broken cable, with the free-fall stopped only by his bastard ingenuity and willingness to work eighty hours a week.</p><p>His package design people had been bought out, a good reliable small company gobbled up. Maybe that was what was making him nervous more than the city. It seemed that happened every time he turned around, and while he and Radek had been holding off the vultures by the skin of their teeth, it seemed in no way certain that they would continue to be able to do so. His project manager had even been replaced by a yet-to-be-named design specialist who had <i>ideas</i>. Rodney could tell that 'specialist' just where to stuff those ideas, too, and he planned on that. He knew what he wanted and he was going to get it. End of story.</p><p>He'd managed to muscle in on larger companies, and every year took more and more of the market share away from the big ones, and there was no way someone was going to tell him how to redesign his packaging into some muddy mush of a package that looked no different from anyone else's.</p><p>Parking his S40 was no easy feat, either, even if it was in a parking garage. He'd just taken it through a car-wash, too, so there was an irrational fear that someone would steal or try to key his baby. Any car that ran that well, that safely after three years deserved to be treated well.</p><p>Rodney took care of things that he owned. Originally, it was mostly because he didn't have anything, living from hand to mouth in desperation after he left Detroit, circumstances conspiring against him viciously. Then, it became ingrained habit, because things lasted longer when they were treated well, and when they were nice to begin with, that helped them to last even longer. Buying a car that was nearly new had been a pretty big investment, and yes, he could afford to get a new car if he wanted to, now. He preferred to save money, play it safe and sane, and enjoy the fact that he could treat the things he had very well.</p><p>Clothes were the same way, even if he didn't dress up for the meeting the way the usually pandering design types did. There was no point. He wasn't a big businessman, he was a tech who ran his own company. Still, it was all conspiring already to make him feel outdone there. Huge building, everyone crisp and in suits, polished glass and chrome everywhere. Hell, the elevators were going to be hard to find.</p><p>"Going down?"</p><p>Oh, yes, right, <i>from the first floor</i>. Rodney turned around to give the man a piece of his mind and felt all of the blood in his body pool down in his feet.</p><p>John.</p><p>John, all unblunted edges and shark smile, dark hair in artful spikes, warm hazel-gold eyes coated in frost, the whole of him blade sharp and terrifying.</p><p>He knew that recognition had to be all over his face, and horror, too, probably. He'd expected that if he ever met John again, it would be a John different from the monster he'd created in his head, but no, no, he was completely fucking wrong about that. John in his head had apparently crawled out of his ear while he slept and was there, standing in a too-sharp suit, smiling. "No, uh, up."</p><p>From the look of him, it would only be right if his voice had turned whiskey-dark and husky, as gorgeous and scary as he was. It was nasal when he did speak again, though, breaking the image even if it didn't scare Rodney any less. "Then maybe you should press the button, McKay."</p><p>McKay. He hadn't been McKay in a long, hell of a long time, but he did lean forwards to jam the button. "What the hell are you doing here?"</p><p>That shark-smile turned into a jagged smirk that made Rodney shudder. "Didn't they mention, Meredith? I own this business."</p><p>Owned it.</p><p>Oh. God. And it was much too late to change design companies, too late to run away again, because it wasn't as if he could just give up everything and run again. He had more to lose now, now that he didn't have his family anymore, now that all he had was Radek and Peter and his business and...</p><p>"Press the button. Meredith."</p><p>"It's Rodney. Rodney Sheppard. And I've already pushed it, you buttoned up moron. You're not going to get me to scrape and give in to you this time." Not like last time, no, he was going to focus and not let the bastard shake him and then he was going to go to his hotel room and pass out, but that was going to wait because he would <i>not</i> let Sheppard scare the shit out of him again. At least not where John could see it.</p><p>No matter how tempting it had been to pass out at the first sight of him.</p><p>"Well. That explains it then." John lifted his head and looked at the barely visible floor indicator. "I was looking for Meredith McKay. It didn't occur to me that you'd have the balls to use Sheppard instead."</p><p>"It didn't occur to me that you'd have the balls to look for me at all, after what you did." He was still watching John, and John was calm, casual, as if it was all nothing, as if the numbers on the fucking LED lit sign -- which John probably couldn't even explain the workings of -- changed from two to one.</p><p>The door <i>dinged</i> and open to let loose a flood of knife's blade corporate mannequins, the kind that made Rodney's jaw clench. John didn't say anything, just let them all pass and then got in, holding the door open for Rodney with one raised brow. "Really. Well, considering you managed to take nearly six thousand dollars with you when you left what with managing to empty my bank account and all, I don't know what made you think I wouldn't look."</p><p>Sanity? Desperation, because he couldn't face that kind of anger and abuse and insanity for, oh, more than twenty four hours. He waited for the doors to close, clutching a hand tightly around the strap of his laptop bag. "I decided to take you up on your original offer."</p><p>"Sorry. That one expired around the time you went back to Canada with your dad, and any further offers were voided by the whole abandoning me the first morning of our honeymoon thing." The <i>schump</i> of the doors shutting left them alone in a small enclosed space, and that was bad.</p><p>"Abandoned? I <i>abandoned</i> you? Do you even remember what you did, you alcoholic sociopath?!" His voice was pitching up, angry, and he hated that because his heart was racing and Sheppard still didn't see anything wrong about what he'd done, and Rodney had no idea why he'd ever expected him to, but it would have been nice. It wouldn't have fixed a damn thing, but it would have been something.</p><p>"Actually, not so much. But you didn't exactly stick around for me to apologize or make it right or for us to even <i>try</i>." How the hell had any of this become his fault? "I figure you owe me the money plus interest, and a divorce."</p><p>"Yeah? Well you owe me a jail sentence for what you did." He snapped that, and if his jaw clenched any tighter, he was going to pulverize his molars. Apologize, he still owed Rodney an apology, but there was no making it right or trying after that. Not after he'd called Rodney every name that came after 'Whore' in the thesaurus, and pinned Rodney down and he wasn't going to think about it, hell, fuck, just a few more seconds in the elevator...</p><p>The ding that sounded rang between them with the force of a cannon shot and the doors <i>schwooped</i> open onto a floor full of glass walls and meeting spaces.</p><p>"I don't know what I did, McKay. I was pretty much drunk the entire time, and if anything inappropriate went on, then I'm sorry."</p><p>Magnanimous, as if it meant nothing, and for him it probably didn't. It had been the defining point of Rodney's life, though, changed everything, made it impossible for him even to look at other men, much less date them.</p><p>"Your apology is worth nothing. You don't even mean it." He started forwards out of the elevator, fingers knotting tight around the strap of his bag. The worst thing was that he could still remember it, start to finish, John's fingers in his ass to the burning pain, to the way he'd given up, stopped fighting because there was nowhere to go but through the headboard and the wall, and John just hadn't <i>stopped</i>, and he was pretty sure he'd been begging.</p><p>And it was nothing to John. Not even a memory.</p><p>"I didn't figure it would mean anything to you anyway, McKay. Shall we?" He gestured at one of the conference rooms, and Rodney wanted badly to turn around and walk out. He wanted to press the button on the elevator and leave, but he needed the damn packaging.</p><p>"If it wasn't too late to change firms, I would," Rodney bit out, clutching tighter at the strap as he started towards the conference room. Not much longer. How long could the meeting go on? No long, and John probably wouldn't be there the whole time. He'd probably have a phone call to see to.</p><p>Something. Anything except this, Rodney hoped.</p><p>"Well, Meredith, there's a small problem with that. You signed a contract, one that covers a five year period and transferred to my company when I bought out Sherman and O'Malley. You could always buy it out, of course..." The way he trailed off into silence implied Very Bad Things.</p><p>He'd liked Sherman and O'Malley. Rodney closed his eyes for a moment. "Do you get off on acting like this?"</p><p>John just smirked and held open the door. "It's inherited. You first, Meredith."</p><p>"It's <i>Rodney</i>. If you keep calling me that..." It was degrading. He was trying to put Rodney back ten years and back where he'd been when his life had fallen apart, and Rodney couldn't be that cowed person who cared what other people thought anymore.</p><p>He wasn't. He wouldn't be, and especially not for John Sheppard. Never for him.</p><p>"You'll what? Steal from me? Run away? Humiliate me the day after the wedding's announced? Oh, hey, wait. You already did that."</p><p>"You did a fine job of humiliating yourself, since you spent the entire ceremony drunk and calling me a whore." At least the conference room was empty, but it wasn't actually a comfort, because there should have been a design team there.</p><p>"Considering I had pictures of you fucking that Beckett guy nine ways to Sunday...."</p><p>Wait.</p><p>Pictures? What?</p><p>"Okay, and where did they come from? The inside of your fucked up drunk skull? Because you were the first person I'd ever -- Carson was a friend, and there was one kiss because he was a stupid hopeful romantic. There was no fucking him 'nine ways to Sunday'." He set his laptop bag down, looking around the room. "Am I paying by the hour to be vividly reminded why I left you in the first place, or is there an actual design to show me?"</p><p>"There's an actual design. If you like, I can even incorporate all the photos to remind you," John offered, sliding into the chair at the head of the table. It was just like he'd never left, the strange twelve entire hours Rodney remembered spending with his husband. All bitterness, all bickering, all disaster.</p><p>"Look, I don't know what the hell is wrong with you, and I didn't know then, but I never did a damn thing with Carson, and even if I had, it doesn't justify what you did to me." He could grab his bag and leave. This was harassment. This was something to call the Better Business Bureau over. This was lawsuit material, even if he just wanted to leave.</p><p>There was that look, a long, steady one that Rodney remembered from dealing with John's dad. "Yeah," he said finally, quietly. "Yeah. You didn't. But we were kids and they were making both of us do something pretty shitty, and I was sorry. I don't remember any of it, McKay. What I know for sure is that I want a divorce."</p><p>He was going to be sick. He was going to be sick, because his heart was in his throat and his stomach was up in his chest and Rodney really had to focus to talk, watching John. "Fine. Maybe the next honeymoon you have won't end in rape. I sure as hell hope so for the next sucker you find. Now are you going to show me the damned design so I can sign off on it?"</p><p>John watched him for a minute, and Rodney thought he was going to say no, but he finally nodded and reached for a small panel of switches and buttons. "Yeah. Let's get started."</p><p>He sat down, finally, and kept his hands under the table because they were shaking and he would be damned if he was going to let it show. He should have divorced him a long time ago, but it would have meant facing him and he hadn't even wanted to do that. All he had to do was approve the design, and he could go home. To his apartment, his cat, his work, his office. And maybe it would be like John had never happened at all.</p><hr/><p>He had known it would be Meredith.</p><p>Of course he had known. He'd found out about the contract barely half an hour before the meeting, seen <i>Sheppard</i> stamped across the folder one of his guys was planning to present, and he'd looked into it. John just wished he had known sooner.</p><p>Maybe he would have done something besides be a total asshole. Not that he was bitter or anything, all things considered.</p><p>No, he'd just... well, he still wasn't sure what he'd done, but he'd suspected, vaguely, and then Meredith had implied it and implied it and finally said it, and he'd been shaking with anger. John had thought for a minute that Meredith was going to pick a chair up and whip it at him. He wasn't the scrawny kid he'd been back when John had met him. He was broad-shouldered, jaw firm, jerking up in the face of anything that looked like an impediment, those pretty blue eyes hard and angry where John remembered them being soft and confused and afraid.</p><p>He'd known Meredith -- Rodney -- would have changed over the years. He'd be stupid not to have considered it, and John Sheppard wasn't stupid. He just hadn't been prepared for how much. He'd been expecting something else, not the hot guy who'd been standing at the elevators who'd turned around and speared him with a gaze and tongue so pointed he'd probably left spattered blood all over the office.</p><p>He'd been angry, no question of it, and it was hard not to respond to anger with anger of his own, because Meredith had walked out on him. Meredith hadn't given him a chance, because they could have made it work, maybe. John didn't know. Couldn't remember what he'd done, only that Rodney seemed to hate him. That was fine. That was what lawyers were for. They'd finish working on Rodney's project -- and seriously, <i>Canadian tax software</i>, who would have thought it? -- and then they'd get divorced and it would be over and done with, finished.</p><p>He could get married again, even if that idea was more Mara than him. He was happy the way things were, for the most part.</p><p>Rodney's biting comment was just.... just an impossibility. He wasn't the kind of guy who <i>did</i> that, he wouldn't. Mara was sweet and it was, it made him feel sick to think about. No matter how pissed off he'd been, hurt that Rodney had taken him in and made him look like an idiot, he wouldn't have done that. He just...</p><p>He wanted to deny it from that moment until hell froze, but John remembered the traces of blood. He didn't remember what happened exactly. He'd never been able to forget that, though, or the overwhelming urge to puke that hadn't been brought on by an overindulgence in liquor alone.</p><p>Meredith had been young and shy and if John had been the one with that kind of personality, what would he have done? Fled, probably. It was childish and stupid, but he might have done it, and John couldn't remember. He knew for afact that Meredith-cum-Rodney was still angry as hell at him a decade later, though. Maybe divorce papers would settle him. Maybe it would help work things out, because as they stood, everything was a fucking disaster, and John didn't want them to stay that way. They both needed to get on with their own lives, needed to make things right. Better. Whatever.</p><p>Pausing in front of room 712, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The worst Meredith... McKay... <i>Rodney</i> could do was slam it in his face, so he reached out and knocked.</p><p>It was going to take a while to get the proceedings going, to get to court in Canada and get the ball rolling, but it had been ten years. A few more months, another year -- what the hell did that matter?</p><p>The door opened, stopped, half-jerked shut, and then paused, just opened a crack. "You're not room service."</p><p>"Yeah." He managed what he hoped looked like an apologetic expression, just a little bit of a smile. "Not so much. Since we dealt with business earlier, I was hoping maybe we could deal with the private stuff now."</p><p>"If that was what you call business, I suspect you're going to see a lot of lawsuits." The door didn't shift, at first, but it slowly cracked open, and Rodney stepped back. His jaw was clenched, chin up, and he still looked like an angry, arrogant bastard. He also looked like he was capable of knocking John out cold and leaving him lying there in the hall, so John decided to keep a respectful distance.</p><p>He cleared his throat. "You were, uh, kind of unexpected. If you want me to be honest about it. We could go downstairs if you'd be more comfortable." The proverbial olive branch, offered because it didn't cost him anything, not really.</p><p>"I was waiting for my dinner." He looked at John like he was stupid, or forty kinds of daft, and took another backwards step. "Just... what do you want?"</p><p>John held up the papers, waved them just a little. "Divorce papers. I, uh. I've been toting them around for a while." Try a year. "They'll have to be redrawn, but I figured you could take a look, make sure you were okay with all of it."</p><p>Rodney leaned in for a moment, snatched them from his hands, and John was sure he felt the lingering sting of a massive paper cut against his palm. "I'll have my lawyer look over them. You'll have to forgive me for wanting them gone over in preliminary before I sign anything, seeing as you suggested earlier that I owe you what I took plus interest. You'll get your hands on my company over my dead body."</p><p>Okay. Deep breath. "I don't need your company, Rodney. Keep it. Let's at least let this be amicable, huh? All things considered. It's not like it meant anything but trouble to either one of us."</p><p>"You have no idea. And that's why I'm going to believe that this whole affair is going to continue in the same vein it started -- namely, screwing me over." He took another back step away from John, starting to read over the papers he'd snatched from John. "I'm going back home tomorrow, and I'll get my lawyer to look over them then. I hope that's <i>okay</i> with you, and you're not going to lose your fucking mind again between then and the next time I see you."</p><p>God, Mer... Rodney made it hard not to want to hit him, or kiss him, John couldn't decide which. It was disturbing, although not so surprising. Meredith was the only man (boy, whatever) he'd ever had that problem with. "I'm not going to go crazy between now and then. It's fine. You do whatever you need to do, and I'll see you for the finalizing session next month."</p><p>He'd planned on offering to take McKay out to dinner, being nice, being.... well, trying to make up for things, at least a little. He just made it damn hard. He was so angry, and it was hard not to react to anger with anger of his own, because hey. Things hadn't been peaches and pie for him, either, but they were both there and no one was a hobo on the street, so they'd done all right for themselves.</p><p>"Great." Rodney started to say something else, and it was like the world was conspiring against John, because there was another knock on the door and Rodney's cell phone was ringing.</p><p>"Let me take you to dinner." It just burst out, and he'd so deserve it if McKay slapped the shit out of him. He was a little surprised when he didn't feel the automatic sting of an open palm, and so he tilted his head. "I promise. No arsenic."</p><p>Rodney was staring at him, though, even while he thumbed his cell phone off, and gestured vaguely. Maybe he'd shocked him by asking. "Could you get the door?"</p><p>Huh. Well, okay. Not so bad then. "Yeah. No problem."</p><p>No problem at all, even when it turned out to be the guy with McKay's dinner. John figured that put quit to any invitation he'd made, because it smelled pretty good, the stuff people only ate if they were on vacation.</p><p>Right, and the guy had said he was waiting for room service, but John had thought it was a joke about the suit he was wearing. Except, apparently it wasn't, because the guy was lifting the cover off the platter. Seafood, salmon -- okay, McKay knew how to eat, and it smelled fantastic, but Rodney recoiled. "What part of no lemons made you idiots decide to slather its body in lemons?!"</p><p>"Uh...."</p><p>Right. Saving the idiot from himself.</p><p>"Take it back downstairs and remove the charges from the room." John could be firm and scary and let Rodney's fury unspool in the background. "I don't think he's going to trust you with his food now. C'mon, Rodney. I know a place."</p><p>"I'm allergic! I specifically stated I was allergic. I understand it has the same number of syllables as 'I love it' but it doesn't sound ANYTHING like it!" There was apparently a little bit of unspooling to do, and the man apologized and seemed willing to take the food back and flee.</p><p>At least the guy seemed to understand the whole thing about discretion being the better part of valor.</p><p>"No lemon at the place I'm offering." John dangled it just a little, curious to see if Rodney would take the bait or go back to swishing his tail in a corner like a wet pissed-off cat. It was worth a short.</p><p>Rodney stared at him, and stared at him, and then he pocketed his cell phone. "Let me get my coat."</p><p>Easy as that, just as if it really <i>was</i> easy and not nearly impossible.</p><p>"You understand that this is only because if I remain here, I might be starved into a hypoglycemic reaction, and I can't trust them with my food, right?"</p><p>Or pretty damn possible, considering. Huh.</p><p>"Yeah, I got it, Rodney," he drawled, leaning against the door frame and waiting.</p><p>Rodney moved in hurried motions now, jerking his coat on, and for a moment, John could almost see the nervous kid the guy had once been. Almost, if he squinted just right. "Good. Because I have better things to do than slip into a coma because some coke-high sous chef had 'Lemon Parade' playing in his mp3 player."</p><p>"Yeah, well, don't worry. This is a steak place, and you can watch them cook it right in front of you." John straightened and pulled open the hotel room door. "You can even make demands if you feel like it, and I promise we'll have Coke or something to drink. Just so you feel okay with it."</p><p>"Steak..." Rodney fussed for all of thirty seconds with his collar. "Fine. Sure, fine, as long as this doesn't involve some complicated attempt to humiliate me. Lead on."</p><p>Okay, so. That had gone better than John could ever have hoped for, he figured, and moved to head out the door. It wouldn't be so bad.</p><p>After all.</p><p>What could go wrong?</p><hr/><p>He'd probably declared war from the moment he'd smacked the armrest from the middle seat of the taxi into a down position, but it was all he could do to get out of his head the memory of John leaning forwards, one big hand cupping over his dick through his pants in the back seat of a car. Just being in the same space with him twisted Rodney up into either panic attacks or memory-thoughts. The whole affair was going to leave him with a huge therapy bill when he got home and talked to Teyla again, starting with why he'd agreed in the first place. Hunger hadn't clouded his judgment that much, had it?</p><p>Maybe it had. Maybe the fear of dying alone in a lemon-induced agony had spurred him on to greater exercises in masochism or something, but John had been a gentleman so far. The fact that Rodney was even thinking about it made him cringe. Gentleman, ha. As if he was living in one of those horrible romance novels Radek kept hidden in his bottom left desk drawer and pretended he didn't read!</p><p>John Sheppard was no gentleman. The whole, the whole <i>event</i> that had happened at the advertising offices had made that clear, and the divorce papers that had appeared so quickly, and now this. There was no logic or sense to it, but John was behaving himself, hands off, when the taxi stopped to let them out. He behaved all through the salad, didn't comment on Rodney's forceful demands in regards to lemon, and he behaved through soup and the arrival of steak with baked potatoes, too.</p><p>Frankly, it was making Rodney twitchy. John Sheppard didn't behave. Not ever. That obviously meant something was very very wrong.</p><p>There had to be some goal, some reason. He was divorcing Rodney, which was fine, fantastic, so why was he nicer suddenly? When they'd spent a few hellish hours married, he'd been nothing but an insane asshole who'd scarred Rodney for life. He couldn't even be nice in an elevator ride. But now...</p><p>"So, were you swapped with a pod person after you left the meeting?"</p><p>The startled look should have turned to anger instead of amusement. It was the sort of behavior Rodney had come to expect from him, so the change made him wary. "Yeah, well. More like the person this morning was the one out of the pod, so to speak. I wasn't expecting to see you. I wouldn't have if I hadn't swiped a file off the desk of one of my lead guys."</p><p>"I wasn't particularly expecting to see you again, either." It still wasn't an excuse, though, and it didn't explain dinner.</p><p>John's tongue darted out, and it almost made Rodney want to watch. Almost. He'd gotten over that, though, right? "Yeah, well, I was an asshole. Not just this morning, either. I figured you deserve to be free of me. It never came to anything anyway."</p><p>Not between them, no, but it hadn't exactly bounced off of Rodney's radar and left him perfectly happy. Except he couldn't quite blurt, "Apart from where you ruined my life." No matter how much he wanted to say it, because it certainly wouldn't be doing anything for the tone of the discourse, and he'd liked it calm and casual and--</p><p>And John was staring a little again. Oh.</p><p>"Huh." The way John was dawdling his fork in his twice-baked potato implied that he was easier, the kind of person who played with his food, or that Rodney had actually said that out loud. "Yeah. I heard that your mom died, right afterwards." After the wedding, and after Rodney took every bit of John's money he could get his hands on and ran.</p><p>And oh, fuck, he'd actually said that aloud. "Before I got home. My father... wasted no time in disowning me, actually." He'd tried to explain himself, and his father had snapped that he'd do whatever John told him to do, and to get out of his sight and they needed something harder than Coke for that conversation. Vodka might be a start, except for the fact that getting John drunk would make Rodney a nervous wreck in so many and varied ways.</p><p>"I heard that, too. Dad, uh..." John waved a hand. "But he made sure there was a fund for Jeannie. For school and the like. He'd have left one for you if you'd come home." Home, as if John was home any more than Rodney's father had been.</p><p>He wasn't. Neither of them, and the way John kept suggesting that he should have gone home, made Rodney start to wonder if he'd made a bigger deal of things than it warranted. Maybe he should have... "Small comfort."</p><p>"Yeah. Well. I wasn't exactly expecting you to come back to be honest. We were pressured into making a mess of things, and I know I didn't help."</p><p>Rodney stuck his fork hard into a piece of steak, and chewed part of it before he set the fork back down on the plate. "No, you didn't. I actually thought I was past the point where I couldn't do anything <i>but</i> think of what happened, but I'm apparently wrong. My therapist might fly down here herself to beat you up."</p><p>"Hey, when did physical violence come into this?" There was no doubt John was pouting, and he probably thought it was cute. Okay, it was cute, but Rodney wasn't about to admit it. Ever.</p><p>"When your stunt this morning put my therapy back five years." And it was easy to say, faced with the pout and the cute and god, fuck, he couldn't do that. He knew, remembered what John had done, but John was right there and different from the John he'd seen just that very morning. He was the John that had taken him riding and shown him the airplane exhibit and the old model cars even though they'd had a bodyguard with them. John had even managed to slip them around an old car and kiss him, sweet and easy, without Bates catching them at it.</p><p>Rodney had wanted that. He'd wanted <i>that</i>, that feeling, that sweet and easy, and it was all gone, and now he was just starting to work back to the point where he could even think about men in that way. The problem was that it was like getting back on the bike when everyone else had moved on to jet planes. And John was still there, faux sweet over a coating of pure, confusing evil, or the other way around.</p><p>Rodney couldn't even begin to make sense of any of that.</p><p>"I'm sorry." He honestly seemed to mean it, seemed as if he felt bad for the things that had happened. Rodney wanted to believe it, but then, Rodney wanted to believe a lot of things, as far as John was concerned, things that had turned out to be lies. "I was just shocked. I looked for you. Afterwards. Didn't think to look under my last name."</p><p>"I wasn't trying to hide. I just thought... if you wanted to find me, you would." It wasn't as if his sister or his father were looking for him, and he hadn't been allowed to attend his mother's funeral, so if her angry ghost was looking for him, he wanted to give that one a miss.</p><p>John hummed. "Yeah, well. Your dad wasn't exactly forthcoming in helping me figure out where you were, and all I knew was Meredith McKay. Rodney Sheppard was hiding in plain sight."</p><p>It was hard not to snort while he reached for his soda. "Yes, because the man who'd, oh, <i>disowned</i> me really was going to know where I'd taken off to. Because I wanted him to keep tabs on me after he turned Jeannie against me and wouldn't let me attend the funeral. Yeah, no, of course he'd know where I was." Idiot.</p><p>"I didn't exactly know that at the time." Rodney's husband shrugged and dawdled his fork through his potato for a second before digging into it and gathering a bite. "I found out six months later, when Dad sent him under."</p><p>"Do you mind if I ask what the hell is your father's problem?" He wasn't watching John dawdle through dinner, and he hadn't, had NOT just thought about the man as his husband. The last time he'd felt so completely appalled by himself, he'd realized that he'd picked up chocolate off of the floor, blown it off, and eaten it. At least he'd had the excuse of having been awake for three days with that one.</p><p>"He was in love with your mom. When they were kids. Your dad showed up, and he must have been pretty different then, because she went with him instead and ended up sick and bedridden." John shrugged. "He's always believed in true love. He wanted that for me, and he just couldn't see why it shouldn't be you."</p><p>"Would he like an alphabetized list of reasons?" Because love-long-lost was sure as hell a reason to ruin people's lives, sure, that made about as much sense as oh, ant colonies on the moon.</p><p>Those hazel-gold eyes peered at him across the table, and seriously, who had eyes like that? They were a touch more green than gold, but still. No one had eyes like that! "I gave him one. It didn't work."</p><p>"So the fact that we'll be filing divorce papers like we should have years ago isn't going to make him happy." Rodney shrugged, and stabbed another piece of steak and a couple of green beans.</p><p>John shook his head. "Doesn't have to make him happy. I've been independent of him for years now, so it's not like it's any of his business." Rodney wasn't going to ask about the hows or whys of that one.</p><p>"Congratulations." And he was still a business shark, snapping up smaller companies, so he wasn't that far removed from his father, was he? Rodney chewed slowly, watching John's face again.</p><p>"Yeah, well. I can see what you're thinking from here. Sherman was going under, and it's a good business. He's the guy I stole your file from," John confessed. "And he's still doing the work, too, so you'll be happy to know that."</p><p>Grudgingly, sure. "He's annoying but I've liked his work. It works for the product. Still, how did you get into advertising?"</p><p>That grin was in no way anything less than wicked. "With my dad's cutthroat policies? Somebody had to figure out how to make Pegasus Shipping look good. I was good at it, and it just... grew."</p><p>And he set himself apart from the man, apparently. Rodney wasn't so sure how true that was, but time would tell all, even if Rodney didn't plan on sticking around to find out. "Huh. I guess lying creatively with pictures would come easily to you, then."</p><p>The way John shrugged made his shoulders look broad, capable. It made Rodney shiver just a little, and seriously, <i>where</i> was any of this coming from, anyway? "That's pretty much what a good PR and graphics design firm does, right?"</p><p>Rodney snorted. "No, sometimes they actually represent a good product in a way that allows it to be more eye-catching than the poorly coded competitor. We go Gold for this tax season in two weeks."</p><p>"Rumor has it you're pretty hot stuff in Canada. Everybody's talking about how you're pretty much the Porsche of tax software." John reached for his glass and drank, tongue swiping away the remnants before he picked up his fork again.</p><p>"And this year we break the American market with a federal only version of TaxZing. Next year hopefully I can hire more people and we can get the separate state version out, but still." He was proud, and damn well why not be? He'd worked hard, and he'd pushed himself until he'd managed to make something, something big. Considering all of the problems he'd had, why wouldn't he be proud?</p><p>"That's amazing. You must have worked pretty hard. I mean, you're only, what? Twenty-seven?"</p><p>"And brilliant. I have great help, though. As long as you see the coding as a game, a challenge, it's easy." He took a swig of his soda, and mopped up a last piece of steak through potatoes.</p><p>"Yeah, well, I..."</p><p>"John."</p><p>The voice came from out of nowhere, off to the side, catching both of them unaware. If Rodney hadn't seen the look of horror cross John's face, he might have suspected that it had all been set up.</p><p>"Good evening, Dad." Ground glass had fewer edges.</p><p>Oh, he was in hell. He was right back in hell, and all the moment needed was a scary looming man who should have sought employment as a James Bond villain. "Mister Sheppard. What a surprise this isn't actually proving to be."</p><p>"Rodney, I swear..."</p><p>The elder Sheppard raised an eyebrow. "Rodney? Well, that's quite a change from Meredith, all things considered."</p><p>"Dad, I swear to god. What are you doing back in Detroit? I thought Barbie had you sucked into that Hawaiian hell you're calling home now."</p><p>"I wanted to come visit you! I've only got the one of you, kid. I'm glad to see the two of you back together. I wondered when you'd both come to your senses." John's father smiled, and it was a funny thing... well, it reminded Rodney of the crooked way his mother had smiled when she'd been having heart palpitations.</p><p>John's face had gone flat, and almost scary. "We're talking about the divorce, Dad. The one to settle what you and McKay did to both of us. That way, we can get on with our lives. We're busy men."</p><p>His father leaned a little, patted John's shoulder, and Rodney just watched, trying not to stare. "Divorce? No, no, you can't do that. You have to give it a try."</p><p>"Dad, you seriously can't expect us to even..."</p><p>"Johnny." Okay, this was ridiculously awkward. "Johnny, I just want you to be happy. I just..."</p><p>Rodney put a hand over his face. "Sir, your son wants to marry a woman. She's probably very sweet and very stupid, and I'm sure he'll be happy with her and her silicone implants."</p><p>Yeah, they both made faces at that. "Rodney, I think I'll be better off if you stay out of it," John muttered.</p><p>"Look, I'm just making the point that we'll be a hell of a lot happier without each other," Rodney cut in, glaring at John. "Unless, what did you call her? Mana, Mala? Unless she's really Mario, you're as straight as straight comes."</p><p>The outright disappointment on Will Sheppard's face was difficult to comprehend. "John. Johnny, I thought...."</p><p>"Look. Dad. I'm sorry. I know you thought maybe I'd be more stable what with Rodney and all but..." John shrugged. "I'm sorry."</p><p>And it was starting to strike Rodney that one of the worst moments of his life had been engineered entirely to please John. Even if it hadn't, and had completely hurt Rodney, just collateral damage. He wasn't one for wanting to stand up and strangle old men, but it was a day to be tempted by the idea. "Not much else to say."</p><p>"John..." There was something off here, something that made Rodney twitchy. Maybe it was the way Mr. Sheppard's arm was shaking, the way his hand seemed to twitch. "John..."</p><p>The way he keeled backwards on the floor and cracked his head against the parquet.</p><p>Oh. This was not going to be good.</p><hr/><p>John dragged his fingers through his hair and then buried his face in his hands. No one had told him. Not his dad, not Barbie (Barbara, actually, because his father's wife thought it was more dignified, never mind the copious amounts of plastic surgery that assured a lack of necessity for anything resembling <i>aging with grace</i>, never mind dignity), not anyone. None of them had said anything about heart problems or the fact that his father was on the verge of dying.</p><p>None of them.</p><p>If they had, he would have flown to Hawaii because as much as he avoided his dad, he was still... John's dad. He was manipulative, yeah, but that tie was still there, and John felt like hell. He'd been declared dead at the hospital, wham bam, no luck getting the old lying manipulating ticker started again. Barbara was flying out, but mostly because his father wanted to be buried in Detroit -- there was a crazy explanation behind that, too, that John remembered, about his father not wanting his body to be on Hawaii when the Japanese eventually invaded.</p><p>At least he'd been there. That was something, right? That was better than nothing, anyway. It wasn't like he'd caused the attack. Barbara had said that he'd been having little ones, and that they'd been monitored, but the stress had just gotten to be too much.</p><p>Seeing Rodney had been too much. All his dad had ever wanted was for John to settle down and be happy, something Will had never managed for himself. Okay, so he'd used a lot of weird, manipulative ways to try and get John there, but he was still John's dad, and that was what counted.</p><p>Family was family. Barbara was going to be there in an hour, and Rodney had quietly picked up the check at the restaurant while the paramedics tried to revive his dad. He'd expected Rodney to disappear, but he hadn't. Maybe because he'd been there, seen John's dad fall over, that he felt he should try to do something to help.</p><p>"I brought you some coffee. It's shit hospital coffee, but it's better than nothing."</p><p>John couldn't remember ever feeling so grateful as he did just then, rumpled and destroyed the way people only were in small waiting rooms while waiting for 'grief counselors' and stepmothers their own age, nothing between him and the rest of the world except Meredith, who was really Rodney. Mer, who was standing between him and everyone else despite the fact that they'd been married for almost ten years and actually been in the same room with one another maybe six hours, Mer with his funny mouth and bright blue eyes that made John want things he didn't want from anyone else.</p><p>"Thanks."</p><p>Rodney sat down beside him. He'd bitched about the crummy blue plastic chairs once already, and how they were clearly attempts by the doctors to drum up business by way of back problems.</p><p>"Not a problem. So, uh..."</p><p>"You don't have to stay." John looked at him, head turned to the side and tilted up a little. "I appreciate you coming. I don't think I could have gotten here on my own." He knew the way, it was just... It was his <i>dad</i>. "I mean. You know."</p><p>"I know." He did know, what with both parents dead now. He wasn't even sure of the circumstances of the elder McKay biting it. Just that he had and that Rodney's sister probably still hated him. "I, uh..." Rodney cleared his throat and took a sip of his own coffee. "I just wanted to apologize. For arguing with your father before he..."</p><p>"Hey, no. No, it was.. I mean, it's not like that. He was having problems before, or so I'm told." Told only now because his dad hadn't wanted him to know, Barbie said, and Jesus, what was that? Seriously. It was his <i>father</i>, and he had a right to know. He did.</p><p>And no one had told him.</p><p>"Yeah, well..." Rodney rolled his shoulders. "I don't know. I'm sorry it happened. He's still your father."</p><p>"Yeah." There was that. It was true. No matter what, Will Sheppard had been his father. "You know, the thing with us. All he wanted... Barbara's his fourth wife, and a week before we got married, I caught him schtooping his secretary. Administrative assistant, whatever." John took a shaky breath. "He just wanted... And okay, it was a bad idea, but I think he was in love with your mom and he thought you'd just be... the perfect person to make me happy. Even if it was crazy."</p><p>Rodney opened his mouth, and then sighed and leaned his head forwards. "Which explains why my father wanted him to leave my mother alone. What stupid, stupid people, I mean, she <i>died</i> while we were..."</p><p>"Yeah." Yeah, she had, and that had sucked because at the time, he had thought Meredith was lying about how sick she was. About having sex with that kid, Beckett, and seriously, like it made any difference. It didn't, shouldn't have. Instead, he'd gotten pissed, and then gotten <i>pissed</i>, and done a lot of stupid shit. "I was sorry about that. I sent flowers, and a plane ticket for you. At the time, I didn't know you weren't there." He shrugged.</p><p>"Trust me, I was disowned..." Rodney laughed. "Almost immediately. I defied my father, it was..." There was a vague wave of a hand. "I don't know. I try not to think about it."</p><p>John nodded. "Yeah. We, ah. Yeah." Yeah. They'd all made life suck for Rodney, like he was a game piece, and John couldn't say he was any better than the rest of them. Not really. "Thanks again."</p><p>"It's nothing. It...." John could hear the low buzzing noises of a cell phone on vibrate, and Rodney jerked a little. "Sorry. I think I've got to get that. There's all of three people who have my number."</p><p>"Yeah. Yeah, I, um." He waved his hand. There was Barbara, coming down the hall, all silvery-blonde hair and high heels, and she looked wrecked. There wasn't any other word for it.</p><p>He had no idea what to say to her and Rodney, who'd been there in a quietly helpful way the whole time, wandered off, leaving him with his stepmother's decimated expression pulling down just before she hugged him. "Oh, John!"</p><p>"Hey. Hey..."</p><p>Funny. He'd always figured Barbara was about the money, even if he'd never said it to her face. The way she looked, though, all misery and tears, said he'd been wrong. She wasn't nearly good enough at acting to fake that. He'd seen her during her whole local theater phase. It had been a horror, and she'd been prone to costumes with feathers on them, but John had a feeling that it was a lot like a little girl playing dress-up.</p><p>"I knew it was coming, I knew, but I still wasn't <i>ready</i> for him to just die like this..."</p><p>Yeah, he was even less ready because nobody had warned him. "I was having dinner and he ran across me and Mer, and it was just...."</p><p>"Is that Meredith there?" She hugged him close for a moment, before blearily looking towards Rodney, and all John could do was nod a little. "Oh, god. He must have been so happy, John..."</p><p>"We were talking about getting a divorce." Yeah. That wasn't going to go over so hot, considering. "Look, why don't you have a seat. It's been a hell of a long flight, and..."</p><p>"WHAT!?"</p><p>And Rodney, Meredith, Mer, was shrieking like a fishwife.</p><p>"What do you mean, we've been bought? No, no, no, this is not how a buyout goes, what do you MEAN we've been bought?! How the -- what the fuck happened?!"</p><p>Barbara let John shift her into the chair Rodney had been sitting in, and she rubbed at one eye, smearing her eye shadow a little. "Oh, well..."</p><p>"Let me, uh, get you a tissue and..." And figure out what the hell was going on before Rodney threw a stroke and died in the ER and John just laid down and didn't get back up off the floor from the trauma, actually. "Wait here."</p><p>She sniffed again, nodding, and John stood up because he could always use the excuse that he was bumming one off of Rodney. Rodney whose face was red and his eyes were wide in anger. "No, no, no, that was NOT what we floated stock for. No, no, who the fuck is Gardner Ross? No, never heard of them, but they're going to hear about ME, because son of a bitch, this is my company!"</p><p>"Rodney." It didn't get his attention, even when he was waving his hands right in front of him. "Meredith!" Nope. Nothing there, either. "McKay!" John bellowed, and the nurse at the front desk gave him a look that implied security was probably on its way. "C'mon. Let's take a walk."</p><p>"Yes, I'll call back. Just -- yes yes, okay, call Peter. Tell me what he can find out, when you -- yes, fine. Yes." He hung up, and John was already pulling him forwards by his arm. "You! You, you had to have done this, you..."</p><p>"Hey!" Rodney was slapping at him like some heroine in a bad Lifetime movie, smacking John in ways that mostly made him want to laugh. "I have no idea what you're talking about, <i>Meredith</i>, so calm down and tell me what's going on!"</p><p>"Someone's bought out controlling shares in my company!" It wasn't an angry statement, so much as an accusation lodged right at john, and yeah, that was paranoid of Rodney, but it wasn't as if he hadn't been screwed over before.  "What!?" Jesus, okay, so, that was... "Well it wasn't me! I've been right here with you the whole time, and between us and Sherman's previous investments, I've got plenty of money wrapped up in making sure you get everything out on time without interruptions. It's a stupid time to make that kind of move, Rodney!"</p><p>Which was true. If he'd wanted to cripple Rodney, it would have been just <i>after</i> tax time, when he hadn't started investing in another publishing and printing cycle. This was just blowing the wad before the condom was on, metaphorically. "Okay, then who?"</p><p>"I have no idea, but that guy you just called, who was that? Let him do his job and start the work on his end. I'll..." John rubbed a hand over his face. God, he was so fucking tired. "We'll see what we can find out on our end."</p><p>"Radek. He's my best coder. He's, he's calling Peter and Peter can barely make a pot of coffee, but he'll work out who it was..." Rodney's face just fell, though, and he looked miserable suddenly. "Are -- do you want a taxi back to your home? Hotel?"</p><p>"I think we're all going home now, Rodney. There's a guest room. We'll go pick up your stuff at the hotel and you can stay at my place for a couple of days while we sort things out. I'll be a perfect gentlemen. My stepmom will even be there." John waved a tired hand over his shoulder.</p><p>There was no logical reason for Rodney to agree. Not a damn one, but Rodney looked at him, and then at John's broken up stepmother, and then he nodded. "Sure. I -- sure." Because he could at least feel a little like he had a friend by his side while all of that took time to settle in his head. They both could, and that would be a pretty great thing considering how fucked up they all had to be feeling right now. Actually, John was starting to think that the nurse who'd offered him valium when he'd requested Tylenol might have slipped them into his cup when he wasn't paying attention, because the world was seriously slowing down around him. "Great. I'll... I'll get Barb and we'll get a cab. To the hotel or something, and then go home." John could send somebody for cars if necessary.</p><p>It wasn't anything he had a huge concern about just then. As long as he could keep it together, go home, pass out, and then think about funeral arrangements <i>tomorrow</i>...</p><p>"Yes, yes, I get it, Scarlett. It's another day." Rodney seemed to take pity on him, though, and reached out to gently pet his shoulder, almost an apology. It just made John feel like a heel, even as he turned a little -- and Rodney cut him off. "C'mon. You look like I feel, and your stepmother doesn't look better."</p><p>He was just so grateful. It made John wonder what it might have been like if he hadn't been an asshole, if Mer had stayed, if.... "Thanks," he said softly, because what else could he say? He appreciated it.</p><p>"It's nothing." Rodney patted his shoulder again, and if he could pull Barb back together and Rodney could keep him moving, maybe the three of them could get home and get some sleep.</p><hr/><p>
  <i>~"I have found nothing. Nothing at all, although there is strange little man at Gardner Ross who is disturbingly familiar. There were chocolate doughnuts."~</i>
</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>Rodney closed his eyes, and shifted, folding his calves cross-legged under him. His feet were cold, and he still wished he weren't awake and out of bed yet. "Someone has to have the stock, Radek."</p><p><i>~"Yes, this I understand, Rodney, but knowing that someone must have it and discovering who actually has control, well. These are very different things. At first it seems there is one company, and then another. I have made phone calls. Peter has made phone calls. We have done much research, and yet there is nothing."~</i> Radek paused. <i>~"I am uncertain. I do not know where to look next."~</i></p><p>"Maybe they're going to contact us with a ransom. Look, the stocks didn't wander off into the land of socks lost in the dryer, so..." So, his head hurt. His head hurt, and he'd been at the losing end of too many deals with manipulative bastards too many times.</p><p>
  <i>~"Is very much like lost socks, I fear. Infinite layers of companies. I cannot tell who has bought them, or how they have gotten so much. You and I retain fifty-one percent together, however, they are coming close to buying out all others, and we are not so very stable that we can afford to draw such fine lines."~</i>
</p><p>"This is insane. This is, there's no reason for this to be happening, no reason at all. We don't have enemies! There's no..." No logic, no point. If someone wanted to take them over, they'd do it with a sign on their forehead and lawyers in their pockets.</p><p><i>~"I have no idea. We are still looking, but Rodney...."~</i> He could hear the pause, heavy, weighty. <i>~"Perhaps the thing to do is to ask your... to ask John Sheppard."~</i></p><p>Oh.</p><p>"You're not even supposed to know about that," Rodney muttered into the phone. He couldn't quite tell Radek that he was in the guy's house, sitting on his guest bed with the blinds drawn, and that he'd slept there overnight.</p><p><i>~"Yes, well, you have me digging into ancient history. All things considered, it is very difficult to keep from knowing, Rodney."~</i> That was true, too. He hadn't thought about it, but there it was.</p><p>"You don't repeat a word of it to anyone," Rodney blurted, and it was a damn shame he was gesturing at nothing. "I'll talk with him. And I -- look, I don't think I'll be coming home on the flight tonight. But I'll be back asap."</p><p>He was panicked even when Radek made a noise that obviously meant he was an idiot. <i>~"Of course. I will go out and immediately tell world you are married to obnoxious American. They will sing it at the Philharmonic."~</i> His friend sighed. <i>~"Take care of business there. I will take care here. Come home when you can, Rodney."~</i></p><p>"Right. I'll call if I find out anything." And if he could shake off that heart-sinking feeling that he'd been screwed before, and he might be screwed again and maybe it was a plot of John's. Except, no. No, John was right. It was stupid to do it just then. A week before, maybe. A week after, sure. He'd seen John, though, seen the nervous wreck he'd been, the way he had jittered in the waiting room and the way he'd broken down when the doctor came in. There was no way that John was doing this now.</p><p>
  <i>~"Right. Get some rest, my friend. Until then."~</i>
</p><p>There was a whole lot of righting, but Rodney nodded to the phone. "Yeah. Thanks. I'll see you," was what Rodney was pretty sure he said before he closed his phone, and lowered it to his lap. He'd slept incredibly well, actually. The mattress was firm, but he still felt bone-tired and disjointed. It probably had something with sleeping the night in John's home. He was bound to be nervous, after all. It was just the way things ought to be, and...</p><p>"HE CAN'T DO THAT!"</p><p>Jesus, he could hear John from the living room, and in a place the size of this one, that was pretty impressive.</p><p>Rodney stood up, uncrossing his legs, starting to look for his shoes. He'd been half-dressed and groggy-feeling, knotted up, but with that kind of yelling there was a stupid part of him that insisted he had to see what it was and get involved.</p><p>"WHAT THE HELL WAS HE THINKING!?"</p><p>He could hear John's stepmother talking to him, frantically trying to soothe him, and shouts that weren't nearly as loud. They were still pretty penetrating, and he heard more the closer he got.</p><p>"For God's sake, Barbara, he already tried it once and it failed! Now he's screwing both of us again even though he's dead!?"</p><p>Parts and pieces of the story popped into Rodney's mind, and he started forwards, a little faster, one hand lingering against the wall while he headed towards the voices. He could smell something, something like breakfast, maybe. Breakfast and yelling.</p><p>"Jesus Christ. I think I'm gonna be sick."</p><p>"John. John, please, it was what he wanted, it was all he ever really wanted. You know he didn't want <i>me</i>." She didn't sound bitter about that, either. Weird. What kind of woman wouldn't be bitter about something like that? "He was so in love with Meredith's mother..."</p><p>"<i>Rodney</i>."</p><p>"Yes. So much that it was all he could see, and he just thought that M... Rodney would be perfect for you. He wanted you to have the happiness he never had. I wish you could understand..."</p><p>"You!" He turned the corner, snapping at her, and suddenly he wished that he wasn't faced with a woman maybe, <i>maybe</i> ten years older than John, standing there in a bathrobe and tiny feathery slippers, but Rodney wasn't going to stop just because she looked, well, flighty. "You, you're behind my stock disappearing!"</p><p>That faint notch of chin was something he remembered his mother doing, and it made nausea well thick in his throat. "It's what he wanted. He asked that it be set in place and that I start everything in motion in the event of his death. He just wants both of you to be <i>happy</i>...."</p><p>"He didn't even KNOW Meredith!" John yelled, reaching up and pulling at his hair in a quick jerk of impatience. He was rumpled in flannel pajama bottoms, bare feet and a t-shirt that had obviously seen better days. The fact that it said 'math is delicious' across the chest did not make him in any way more attractive than he had been the day before, except for the fact that it did. "He didn't give a SHIT about what Mer wanted!"</p><p>"No one has. So, what's the dirty trick this time?" Rodney crossed his arms belligerently over his chest, and started to walk towards the two of them. There was no reason for two people in their pajamas to look that good.</p><p>"Barbie here," and oh, the sarcastic twist of John's voice was utterly cruel, "made a few phone calls on her way over the Pacific. Apparently Dad was willing to take a few chances if it meant having both of us under his thumb."</p><p>Barbara shifted, reaching up one hand to twirl in a blonde curl. "John, I wouldn't have done it if I didn't think he had your best interests at heart..."</p><p>"Okay, fuck <i>his</i> best interest -- this whole thing has been supposedly for John's best interest, but what does trying to buy my company out from under me have to do with anything?!"</p><p>John gave a hard laugh. "They've bought me out, too. Well, not completely, but undermined me enough so I don't have a choice. He wants us to spend two months living together, stipulates that if we sleep in the same bed for that period of time, we'll get everything back including a portion of the proceeds from his controlling interest in Pegasus Shipping. If we don't, it all goes to Acastus Kolya, his vice president."</p><p>"What the hell is that? A reverse will? <i>'I hereby bequeath the carpet out from under your feet'</i>?" It was hard not to sputter, because it was madness. There was no way it could hold up in a court of law, except that there was nothing to say it was invalid, because the shares were bought and paid for and it was only the manner of getting them back, free of charge, that was strange.</p><p>No, fuck, he couldn't even use a lawyer.</p><p>"Rodney, I swear to God, I didn't know anything about this...."</p><p>"He didn't," Barbara agreed hurriedly. "Will didn't want him to know, he just wanted...."</p><p>"Yes, yes, this impossible marriage that should never have existed in the first place." Rodney re-crossed his arms, and he was shaking. There was nothing to go but stand there and shake, because he couldn't punch the woman without assault charges. "Hell."</p><p>"I'm sorry." She wasn't, it was plain to see. "Two months in return for millions of dollars. What will it hurt to try?"</p><p>Years of therapy and his sanity and and... "You have no idea." Rodney lifted his chin slightly, eyeing John. "What do you want to do?"</p><p>John had stopped pulling at his hair and was rubbing at his eyes instead. "God. It's not like I can afford not to agree, Mc...Me... <i>Rodney</i>." His mouth was stiff, bloodless. "Buying out Sherman was a good move, but it's made things pretty tight money-wise."</p><p>"TaxZing is my life." The fact that John looked miserable didn't seem to help. "How... do we know we get our companies back?"</p><p>Barbara -- Barbie, that bitch -- looked hopeful. "It's explicitly stated in the will. I wanted to prepare John before we went to the reading because Acastus will be there, and... well...."</p><p>"You didn't want a scene."</p><p>At least it proved that she could think, <i>was</i> thinking, and no, it was still no comfort for Rodney. "Good for you."</p><p>"Two months. It isn't so much, not when you'll be getting so much from it. Please."</p><p>Please. As if that would make a difference.</p><p>"Like we have a choice?" John seemed just as bitter as Rodney felt, and no wonder if his company was at risk as well.</p><p>But what the fuck. What the fucking fuck, why and who had ever thought that it was a great, viable plan to inflict on them -- oh, sure, steal their companies out from under them for no reason at all other than to make them, what? Suffer more? "This is insane."</p><p>John rubbed his face with both hands. "And if we don't, we lose our companies and get, what? A dollar? Just to add insult to injury?"</p><p>At least his stepmother had the gumption required to look guilty as hell about it. "A hundred. Each."</p><p>Fantastic. Fantastic. Rodney closed his eyes tight for a moment. There was no, no way he could let his company -- and the people in it -- fall into anyone else's corporate hands, particularly not the creepy bastard he vaguely remembered from his youth.</p><p>So, if he left then and there, he got a hundred dollars for years worth of work and effort and manpower. And Radek got shares and cash from the company, but Rodney tended to reinvest in himself -- because where else was a better place to spend his cash? -- and he would be so screwed if that happened. "Oh god. I, I can't do this. I have to call my therapist..." And the worst part was that he was probably going to do it, but it didn't stop Rodney from turning his back on the two Sheppards in pajamas, fumbling for his cell phone. He could feel his breathing getting tight, and by the time Teyla answered her phone, he was sure, absolutely certain, that he would not be able to speak at all.</p><p>
  <i>~"Good morning, Rodney."~</i>
</p><p>Teyla always sounded honey-warm and calm. Just the sound of her voice was enough to make him wind down a little, and that was something, in any case. He could hear John and Barbara behind him, but he could ignore them, oh yes he could.</p><p>It was the very fucking least that they deserved.</p><p>He wandered a little further away from them, fingers clutched tight around his phone. "Teyla. I'm in hell. I, I, you know the trip to Detroit, the the..." Deep breath, deep breath and he started to force himself to calm down a little. "The company that bought out my advertising company is Sheppard's. And it -- I agreed to go to dinner with him to discuss the divorce papers, and he, his father showed up out of the blue, dropped dead and now there's some bizarre clause in the will, and John's stepmother has bought TaxZing out from under me and I really need drugs right now, you know I'm completely against the idea of sedatives, but I need one <i>right now</i>."</p><p><i>~"Rodney..."~</i> God, god, god, he needed Valium, he needed Xanax, he needed...</p><p>"Mer. Here." It was a cup of coffee, and there was a pill in John's hand. "Barbara keeps Valium in her purse. She thought you could use it."</p><p>Great, and now he was taking <i>other people's drugs</i>. He was in hell.</p><p>
  <i>~"Rodney, I want you to take a deep breath. Remember the breathing exercises we practiced together?"~</i>
</p><p>"I bet she keeps Valium in her purse," Rodney muttered. "Breathing exercises, right. Deep slow breath, right." Rodney took one and then another, trying to focus even as he took the coffee from John.</p><p>
  <i>~"Very good. That is very good. Now, find somewhere quiet and take a seat. We will proceed with our exercises until you feel that you would like to discuss other matters."~</i>
</p><p>There was a reason why she'd been his therapist for so long. He'd tried others, and their methods were too, too something, too probing, too 'tell me about your childhood', and Teyla was very direct and it worked.</p><p>He wandered a little further, keeping a grip on the coffee, and finally sat down on the floor because at least it was quiet, and if John was following him, he was quiet.</p><p>
  <i>~"You are doing very well, Rodney. In fact, it has been some time since you last had an attack of this nature. Did you fill the prescription from your last visit and take the medication with you?"~</i>
</p><p>It was one of those light bulb moments, and it hit even as he said, "Yes. Yes..." He had, because he was paranoid about it even if he <i>had</i> been doing so well, and it was just up in his suitcase. What with being told about the Sheppard Machinations, it hadn't crossed his mind that it was even up there, tucked away into a bag. "I'll just, uh. Get that."</p><p>"Get what? I'll..." John was offering, and he still had that pill in his palm, obviously thinking about taking it himself. Hell. John probably needed it at least as bad as he'd thought Rodney had.</p><p><i>~"I will wait for you,"~</i> Teyla said on the other end of the line, and she was so serene that maybe Rodney resented her, just a little bit.</p><p>Just a tiny bit.</p><p>Rodney left the phone sitting on the floor beside the coffee cup, and got up. "I have a prescription I'd forgotten about in my bag. Trouble is, when you need it, it's hard to think clear enough to remember that you have it."</p><p>"I'll go," John offered again, and Rodney shook his head. "Come on, Mer, Christ, just..."</p><p>"No, no, you're not digging around in my luggage. Just make sure no one steals the phone, too. It's worth more than what I'll get if, no, when we screw this up and I eventually have to pawn it." It was easier to turn and jog off the way he'd come, half-racing even if it broke his Shield of Calm a little. At least he had unlimited cell phone minutes.</p><p>Thank God for small favors.</p><p>It took forever to find it, and by the time he laid hands on the bottle, he had flung his clothes all over the place. It didn't matter, he didn't <i>care</i>, he had the bottle and he popped one of the tabs under his tongue to let it melt away and hopefully soothe the utter complete panic that was making him jitter. If it didn't stop, he was allowed two, and he might just take Teyla up on that for once.</p><p>The bottle ended up pocketed for the moment, and he tromped more slowly back to where he'd abandoned coffee and his cell phone. Hopefully, no one had touched it and hopefully Barbie had fallen into a hole in the earth.</p><p>Rodney had never had a lot of luck with 'hopefully' of any sort, and this time didn't prove any different. By the time he got downstairs, John had picked up the phone and he was <i>talking</i> and God, couldn't he get any privacy?</p><p>"Yeah. Yes. I mean. Um. No. Okay. Okay. Just... Look. It's not like any of this is my fault!"</p><p>"Get the hell off of my phone! I know you don't have any respect for me, but do you have to make it so fucking obvious?!" He shoved a hand out, and reached to pull his phone from John's hand.</p><p>"Hey, she was worried about you!" John scowled at him, and then ruffled his hands through his hair repeatedly for a moment. "For God's sake," he muttered, and then wandered off.</p><p>The Valium was nowhere in sight.</p><p><i>~"Welcome back, Rodney."~</i> Teyla's voice was soothing, easy, making him feel better, or at least not quite so frantic. Something. <i>~"John was explaining about his father."~</i></p><p>"I bet he was. Did he also explain that he's the reason I had no self-esteem to speak of for years? And here I am, getting fucked over by the Sheppard family, again." He sat on the floor again, too, picking up the coffee cup.</p><p><i>~"Mmm."~</i> God, he hated that noise. That noise meant she was coming to a conclusion he was going to <i>hate</i>, the kind of conclusion that made him want to scream. <i>~"What do you think would be the best thing to do for yourself at this moment? Not your business or for other people. For you personally."~</i></p><p>"For me. If it was just me?" If it was just him. His life's work so far, reduced to one hundred dollars, and his car and his cell phone and the equity in his apartment. Which, yeah, was more than what a lot of people ever had, but. "I, uh, I think it might be trying to stick out this two months."</p><p><i>~"Mmm."~</i> Oh, that was a better sound, never mind that it was identical to the previous one. It had a different tenor to it, one that said he was making process or he'd made a choice of which Teyla approved. There were worse things. <i>~"Then do you not believe that is the action you should take, since it is personally and professionally the direction in which you feel you should go, Rodney?"~</i></p><p>"Two months of hell in exchange for getting years of work and investment back seems... almost a logical trade off." And all it needed to seem logical was for Teyla to make those frustrating noises at him, and to remind him that he had a prescription for panic attacks on him in the first place. Deep breathing, too. That had helped in there, somewhere. "I, uh. Guess it's my only option."</p><p><i>~"It is good that you have come to a decision which will work out best for you."~</i> As if he really had any other. Huh. <i>~"You know that I will be here if you need me, Rodney. In fact, if necessary, I will make the trip to Detroit. I believe that you will be fine without me, however, at least for this time. You have made excellent progress in the time you have been seeing me."~</i></p><p>Rodney nodded at the phone -- it was true, yes, he had made a lot of progress, but. There was progress and then there was, then there was hell, sleeping with and staying with his husband from ten years ago and that horrible night.</p><p>"Okay. I, uh. Thanks. I'm sorry if I woke you up."</p><p>The sleepy chuckle almost made him feel better. Almost. <i>~"Yes, well, I do not believe you should fret. You are neither the first nor the last."~</i> Also, she was always well-paid for her time, and he didn't doubt that she charged double if she was awakened at an ungodly hour of the night or morning. <i>~"All will be well, Rodney. Call if you find you need me."~</i></p><p>"I will. Thanks." He didn't linger, just pressed the end call button, and quietly closed his phone. So, he paid for his own personal support group, but it was worth it.</p><p>Rodney stood up, and took the coffee with him, as he wandered back towards the kitchen to find John.</p><p>"Jesus, I can't believe you helped him do this, Barbara." He heard John's voice before he saw either of them, the faint whine of it, all nasal displeasure. "Like it wasn't bad enough to start with. Meredith's dad had to sign papers, he was so young. You see what I'm saying? And I was barely old enough to drink. Well, just old enough to drink, and that was part of the problem, actually."</p><p>"That was a large part of the problem," Rodney agreed as he stuck his head in. "Hey. I, uh. Probably shouldn't have tried to fight you for my cell phone."</p><p>"Yeah, well, it's okay. Never mind. I probably shouldn't have tried talking to the lady on the phone anyway. She was pretty scary, actually." John shrugged.</p><p>Barbara shook her head and leaned against the back of the barstool at the island. It outlined her breasts beautifully, and if Rodney had been at all inclined towards breasts, he would probably have drooled. "You know, I'm not doing this to make you angry or to hurt either of you. That wasn't my intention, any of it."</p><p>"Then what was it?" Rodney didn't' cross his arms over his chest, but he did wander into the room, giving her a wide clearance.</p><p>She shook her head. "I loved Will. This was... You and John, it was what he wanted more than anything. I couldn't tell him no."</p><p>"And he's dead and you still can't tell him no," Rodney guessed, looking at John. "What do you want to do?"</p><p>The way John licked his lips was ridiculously good. It shouldn't be that hot, honestly. "I think, all things considered, I want to do whatever's best for you. Since, you know."</p><p>"I can't just lose my company. So..." So, he was agreeing to it, and shrugging his shoulders and wishing that he wasn't</p><p>John nodded, slow and steady as if he understood, as if he would make the same decision. Maybe he would have. "Okay." Okay. As easy as that. "Okay. We'll do what we have to do, then."</p><p>"Your girlfriend will forgive you." Probably. Rodney finally lifted the coffee mug to his lips and took a sip.</p><p>"She will or she won't." The shrug of those shoulders was ridiculously sexy, and Rodney didn't want to think about that. Not really. "If she doesn't, it's her loss."</p><p>"Okay." Rodney closed his eyes tightly, and took another slow sip of coffee. "Okay, 'Barb'. Just... how does this go?"</p><p>John's stepmother did a thing, one that involved the fluff of a curl in a truly ridiculous way. "The lawyer who'll administer the will has all of the details. I only know what Will asked me to do. He said that he wanted the two of you to have a proper chance at happiness, and that once you'd spent two months in the same house and the same bed, either you'd make it or you wouldn't. Either way, you get the money and your companies back in your own hands, so long as you make it the two months. Not one month and thirty days, but a full sixty-two."</p><p>"Full sixty two." Rodney nodded his head slightly, and wished he hadn't watched her make that utterly silly motion. He never would have pegged her for the kind of person who could funnel shares of his stock away into nothingness, but she had. "When does it start?"</p><p>"The day after the reading of the will."</p><p>John snorted. "This is complete and utter bullshit. How can anybody have a relationship based on being forced to do things they don't want to do?"</p><p>"It's what your father wanted, John. Please."</p><p>Please. Please, anything for people other than themselves.</p><hr/><p>There were boxes everywhere, scattered all around the bedroom. They had been shipped from Canada, full of clothes and personal items, things that obviously could have been bought at the local grocery store for the most part. Rodney's second in command had shipped everything and then some.</p><p>There had even been some lube in there. Vanilla cupcake flavored. It smelled like cake batter.</p><p>"There should be a cake-box of dvds in one of those boxes over there, if you're going to dig around. Why is your bedroom so big, if it's just you in here, usually, anyway?" Right, because the first thing that Rodney had noted was that John's girlfriend hadn't even left so much as a stray razor in John's place.</p><p>Mara didn't like leaving stuff at his place. If John was honest about it, he wasn't all that serious about her anyway. She seemed serious, but if she wasn't leaving anything at his place, how intent could she be, right? Maybe it would be all right, this thing. Maybe it would help him decide what he wanted, one way or another.</p><p>"Yeah. Just me," he said, shrugging. "It's just a thing. That's all. The room's big, the furniture's big." He tried not to continue with the logical conclusion of <i>I'm big</i> because, hey, Rodney already knew more about that than he wanted to know. Than either of them wanted to know. Than he wanted to think that other people knew, except the scary woman on Rodney's phone had greeted him with, <i>'You must be Rodney's rapist'</i> and he'd almost dropped the phone then, except he had to try to explain things, defend himself...</p><p>Something. "You're going to have to cope with it being less big for a little while."</p><p>"Yeah, well. I've got plenty of extra space. There are his and hers closets in the bathroom. Feel free to use it. 's what it's there for." His and his closets, more like. Worked out pretty well that way.</p><p>He was expecting post it note corrections to the tiny engraved signs in about twenty-four hours, anyway. "Believe me, I will."</p><p>They hadn't actually talked about the bed. It was the centerpiece of the thing his father was inflicting on them, though, and they hadn't talked about it or sleeping together, because John didn't know how to bring it up.</p><p>It was a big bed, king size with wide black posts. They could probably sleep on either side and never actually run into one another, arrange schedules so that they didn't ever have to sleep at the same time. John thought that was cheating, but he'd do whatever Rodney wanted. He'd play it by ear. Rodney lifted a handful of books out of one box, and looked at him looking at the bed, and tilted his head slightly. "So, uh..."</p><p>"However you want to handle it," John said, and he meant it. He meant every word of it, because how could he not? Rodney was... Well, Rodney deserved for him to mean it. He deserved for things to work out.</p><p>"The only person I've ever really shared a bed with is Planck -- my cat. So, uh, actually, Teyla suggested some kind of personal space therapy last year, but later suggested that maybe I wasn't ready for that, and I'm still inclined to agree with that."</p><p>Okay, so that put any idea John had of sleeping on a natural schedule right off the charts. "Okay. Then we'll work out a timetable or something. We only have to sleep in the same bed. Nobody said anything about it being at the same time."</p><p>Rodney's mouth pulled down at the corners and he waved one hand slightly as he thumbed through one book. "No, look, it just -- I'm, I'm just trying to say that I'll give it a shot, but if I freak out, you had advance warning."</p><p>Okay. That wasn't so bad. Rodney freaking out was perfectly understandable, considering.</p><p>Considering...</p><p>"So you... never slept with anybody but me?"</p><p>Oh.</p><p>God. Please let him say that he'd slept with somebody else or something because John hadn't exactly thought about it much, hadn't made any kinds of connections, but... Jesus. If the only time Meredith ever slept with anyone was him, and it hadn't even been close to good then...</p><p>"Right, never." Rodney shot a sneaking glance at him, and set down the books he'd been playing with.</p><p>Hello, crushing guilt. Great. Perfect. He was such a complete <i>asshole</i>. It was probably written all over his face, too, because Rodney's jaw was set in that stubborn way John had already come to realize meant he'd die before he backed down from something.</p><p>"There's no way for me to apologize for that. Ever."</p><p>It wasn't a question, and Rodney didn't have to answer him, but he still did, which John guessed said a lot about how Rodney's head worked. "I don't know. I've carried around this mental image of you as some subhuman, permanently drunk monster for ten years, of you as some asshole who gets off on power and making people feel small, and the first time I meet you again, there was my mental image, as large as life and acting exactly the way I'd built you up in my head, threatening me all over again and..."</p><p>"And I just reinforced all of that." John hadn't figured he could feel more ashamed than he had the morning he woke up alone and puking with blood on his dick. He hadn't counted on an afternoon like this. "If there's anything I can do to start making it up to you...." He'd be making up for it until he died at the rate he was going.</p><p>"I have no idea. Hey, and years of therapy to get me to that point. For a while," and Rodney laughed then, digging out another, okay, a second laptop from that box, "for a while, I had fantasies of things I'd do to you some day, so you could understand. I'm past that state."</p><p>That sounded... okay, that sounded absolutely terrifying. "Well. That's a good thing for me, I guess, at least insofar as me not worrying about falling asleep and all." He gave Rodney a crooked smile, unable to help himself. "I hope I'm not the asshole you think I am."</p><p>"Keep... acting the way you have been, and you might just prove it." And he had, what, two months? Two months of not fucking things up horribly like he had that one night, ten damn years ago. Yeah, it wasn't even that tall of an order when he looked at it that way.</p><p>Two months, and since Mara had pretty much left him flat when she'd realized Meredith would be moving in with him....</p><p>"I want to do that." He shrugged, feeling uncomfortable. It wasn't like he enjoyed talking about this kind of thing, but what the hell. "I wanna... you know. I want things to be better." Maybe not perfect or okay, but John figured he'd take what he could get.</p><p>"And, uh..." Rodney tucked the laptop into his arm, holding it close to himself. "Your girlfriend?"</p><p>"Let's just say she's not too impressed that I'm living with my Canadian husband."</p><p>"Oh."</p><p>Oh, was right, but like Rodney had said.  She hadn't even moved in and left behind so much as a sock in her wake. She was there and gone again, and John could handle the hole she hadn't left behind in his life.</p><p>After all. Meredith seemed to be filling it in pretty admirably, and if he left a bigger one when he left in two months, well. That was John's problem.</p><hr/><p>John's neck tie was choking him, and he was seriously considering burning them all.</p><p>He went in to work every day -- after all, it was still his company, even with his dad's crazy machinations at work. Rodney was working from his place and the tax program was well on its way through all of the applicable changes and modifications needing to be put in at the last moment.</p><p>Now if both of them could just get a little sleep, life would be great.</p><p>It wasn't that they weren't sleeping. It was more that they were clinging to the outer edges of John's king size bed as if the center was some sacred middle ground that wasn't to be touched under any circumstances. Sleep was there, it just sucked, and John had decided that he had to get things to be a little less like a state of wary truce and a little more like comfortable.</p><p>That being decided, it wasn't like he had a lot of options. He could either start drugging one or both of them (bad idea) or he could gently ease Rodney into things.</p><p>He could woo Rodney. He could do things the way he should have done it when he was a stupid punk-ass kid who thought he was doing Rodney a favor by offering to nail his ass for money. Rodney had been so agreeable then, too, that day in the limo, when he'd pushed against John's hand and been all soft-lipped and willing.</p><p>John tugged at the necktie again, and tried not to think too hard. That was more difficult than it looked. He'd called twice to be sure that everything was in place. Stephen Caldwell usually came over to clean up a couple of times a week and occasionally cooked so that John wouldn't come home to an empty house. The cleaning service he ran was pretty good about that, and pretty good about taking calls.</p><p>Caldwell had told him that if he called again, he'd regret it, and John believed that.</p><p>He'd spent at least a year's worth of good with this one, but it was going to be worth it, to surprise Rodney <i>in</i> the house without Rodney leaving the house. Setting up a surprise around a guy who telecommuted to work was pretty challenging, but John figured he'd managed to meet it.</p><p>It had taken some calling around. He'd learned how nervous Rodney got about food that had obviously been cooked outside of their kitchen (<i>their</i> kitchen, and wasn't that weird?). He worried about lemons and fretted about citrus, and he had a weird twitchiness about poppy seeds that was probably a byproduct of that. Caldwell had sworn up and down that Rodney never went in the kitchen and he'd barricade himself in if he had to, all for the sake of meatloaf and green beans and macaroni and cheese. It didn't sound like the world's most romantic dinner, but John was getting accustomed to Rodney. He'd figured out what the guy liked, and that was a big part of it. He was going to pick up dessert, and they already had fresh fruit, so if he was lucky, everything was set.</p><p>John hadn't put this much effort into his last three girlfriends.</p><p>His last three girlfriends hadn't taken that much effort, actually. His last three girlfriends had looked at his hair, his clothes, his car, and then they'd practically fallen on top of him and impaled themselves on his cock. Mara had been different, better, but yeah, if he thought about it, he'd put her through hell, what with her finding out that he was married to a guy, and still emotionally tied up with said guy.</p><p>That was the funny part. If anybody had asked him, he probably would have just started at them blankly and asked <i>Meredith who?</i> like some kind of idiot. The emotional investment... well. He hadn't known it was there, and it shouldn't have been there, but it apparently <i>was</i> and he was going to be so messed up when Rodney went home again. The sheer level of suck involved in that couldn't be expressed by words.</p><p>Tugging at his tie again, he loosened it just enough to breathe while using his other hand to turn into Cold Stone Creamery. Rodney would probably be willing to do almost anything for Rocky Off Road, not that John would ask him to. John just wanted him to be able to sleep, and that would be enough.</p><p>If he could just, just get past the fact that Rodney was at once angry and scared of him, even if he was acting like he wasn't anymore. He took whatever his prescription was every other day or so, and he called his therapist what seemed like twice a week, and so far hadn't had a nervous breakdown at John, but it was only a matter of time. Rodney slept in sweatpants and a t-shirt, curled away from John in the bed on the far side of it, and his t-shirt always rucked up, twisted around his body, and John couldn't help but stare. He was pale, the small of his back dipping just a little in a way that invited John's eyes to shift down to the curve of his ass and his thighs.</p><p>When they had gotten married, he'd been this skinny kid barely old enough to actually marry anybody. Over the years, he'd changed, gotten broader through the chest and shoulders, thickening in a way that made John's fingers shake, made him want to reach out and curve a hand against the revealed waist line. The nape of his neck was just as sweet, fine light-brown hair curling just a little at the ends so that John wanted to bury his nose in them and curl around him, sleep close and overly warm and infinitely comfortable there.</p><p>He was losing his mind. He was honestly losing his mind, because years of his father harassing him had clearly gotten to John. So, so he wanted Rodney. Okay, no big deal except not only did he want, but he was obsessing, and John had never obsessed over anybody. He'd never actually had sex with guys except for that one time, and that had been a fucked up disaster, even if he couldn't remember it. He didn't even <i>like</i> guys like that, he thought, paying for the ice cream and heading back out to the car.</p><p>Except for Meredith. Rodney, and yeah, he was never going to get used to thinking about him as anything but Mer, not really.</p><p>He was pretty sure there was some deeper symbolism in  Rodney's name-change, in going from Meredith McKay to Rodney Sheppard, but John couldn't wrap his mind around it. Only that he knew what he wanted, or wanted to try to have again. Done right. John wasn't even aiming for sex, per se. He just wanted to sleep better.</p><p>He wanted Rodney to sleep better, because clinging to the edge of the mattress had to be making him just as stiff and sore as it made John.</p><p>With a muttered curse, John settled the ice cream in the passenger seat and reached up to strip off his tie before he headed back out into traffic and towards the house. Another fifteen minutes, and he'd be home.</p><p>Then, they'd see how things went.</p><hr/><p>Three weeks in meant that he only had forty-one days left. Forty-one days of gnawing worry and sleep deprivation left. Man could not live by naps alone, no matter how much he'd told Radek it was so. It wasn't even the kind of fun sleep deprivation he was used to, the kind where he worked and worked and worked and drank too much coffee or soda and typed until the tips of his fingers arched and his wrists twinged angrily at him.</p><p>No, this was different. He could feel the tension on the other side of the bed, coming off of John in waves, and he was pretty sure from the way that his back hurt that he wasn't any less-tense.</p><p>Just forty-one days, and he could have his company back. Forty-one days more of that vague torture, of sharing a bed with a man he found unbearably attractive and more than a little frightening. In the same breath, too, since apparently being scared was now tangled up in his head as some huge turn-on, because John Sheppard was the hottest thing in Rodney's mind since superconductor chips without cooling mechanisms.</p><p>He reached up and rubbed his eyes even as the trilling sound of AIM in the background told him that Radek wanted something. He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to work at the moment. What he wanted was to sleep, and until he managed to do it without John in the house and without tons of work to do, he just wasn't going to feel rested.</p><p>At all.</p><p>The one thing he had to look forward to was the fact that there was something in the kitchen that smelled good. If he could just go pass out after dinner, he'd be all right.</p><p>There was another trill, and Rodney sighed, moved the touch pad to highlight the window.</p><p><b>brilliantczechbastard (5:47:43 PM):</b> Rodney, you are not answering. I think perhaps you should go and rest. I will take care of this.</p><p>Of course he would. Radek was ridiculously worried about Rodney, knew he wasn't sleeping, knew pretty much everything. He was the best friend a guy could have, and Rodney wasn't so stupid he didn't recognize it. He eyed the keys for a moment, and smacked out a reply.</p><p><b>uncertaintyiscertain (5:52:12 PM):</b> I was thinking. Very hard. About you in a tinfoil hat for thinking that your solution is right.</p><p>Yes, well. Tinfoil hats aside, the disturbing part was simply that Radek knew everything. He was suspiciously knowing, almost clairvoyant, if Rodney believed in such things, which he didn't. On the other hand, Radek was scary. He called during panic attacks and came over when Rodney was feeling lonely. It was freaky, and kind of nice in a best friend.</p><p><b>brilliantczechbastard (5:56:24 PM):</b> Yes, well. You make fun of my tinfoil hat now, but when everything comes together brilliantly, you will want one of your own. I doubt it not. ;-)</p><p>He missed that. Detroit was a hell of a long way away from home, and while America had never seemed all that different from home on the surface, it was. Rodney missed Radek and Aero bars, and Planck, who was probably planning his demise -- well, or had completely forgotten he existed, and was madly in love with cat-hating Radek.</p><p><b>uncertaintyiscertain (5:59:03 PM):</b> You should mass market them. Emboss your face on the brim or something.</p><p><b>brilliantczechbastard (6:02:37 PM):</b> Pfft. You say these things, and you think I will not do it. I will, just to prove to you that it can be done.</p><p>The sound of the front door slamming caught Rodney's attention. John was obviously home.</p><p><b>uncertaintyiscertain (6:04:19 PM):</b> I dare you. Also, I'll be back. I think John's home, which means food.</p><p><b>brilliantczechbastard (6:05:56 PM):</b> Abandoned for food. It is a sad life I lead.</p><p>
  <b>brilliantczechbastard has signed off.</b>
</p><p>Yeah, yeah, but <i>food</i>. Food was important, especially since it smelled remarkably like meatloaf, which was definitely one of his favorite foods.</p><p>He closed out, but left his laptop running with a couple of background processes going, and stood up. Dinner with John was usually interesting and torture at the same time. He was funny, and easygoing, and....</p><p>And Rodney was scared that he was falling in love.</p><p>It was stupid. It was phenomenally stupid, because John wasn't the kind of guy he had ever wanted, and he was everything Rodney wanted all at once.</p><p>"I'm home!" John yelled, and Rodney headed out of the room he'd been using as a mini office.</p><p>He was halfway down the stairs when he realized that he was essentially responding to '<i>Honey, I'm home'</i>, seized up on the stairs, and almost tripped the rest of the way down them.</p><p>"Hey!" John caught him as he stumbled, closer to the bottom than the top, thank God. He didn't even hurt himself much. "Rough day, huh?"</p><p>"Not really. Just tired." He caught onto the banister, and tried not to mentally focus on John's arm around his torso, hand splayed against Rodney's side. "How about you?"</p><p>"Long. Rough." John lifted up his other hand and waved a bag. "I brought home ice cream. Rocky Off Road. Thought you might like some." The way he smiled made Rodney's mouth go a little dry.</p><p>"I can't say no to ice cream," Rodney murmured, stepping back and around John carefully, and god, the man's smile, the man's ass, and the plastic bag of ice cream. "I thought I smelled meatloaf?"</p><p>There was just something about him. "Yeah, well. I noticed how much you liked it when we went to that place over by Cooper's, so I figured that you might enjoy some tonight."</p><p>"What's special about tonight?" It was... Oh, Friday. Well, that was a start -- it meant that John would laze around at home all day for a few days, and Radek would only work at god-awful hours that he missed working.</p><p>"Nothing in particular," John admitted, shrugging. "But I thought it might be good if we have a nice dinner. Things have been... tense." He peeked up at Rodney through thick black lashes. "I know you haven't been sleeping. Figured it wouldn't be so bad to just relax, have dinner, maybe, you know. Get comfortable."</p><p>Get comfortable. Sleep with. Peer up at him through dark eyelashes flirtatiously. "Comfortable, right. Uh, hey, why not, huh?"</p><p>"'s kinda what I thought. C'mon, Mer." He held out his hand, and Rodney almost held his breath as he reached out to take it.</p><p>No matter how often Rodney reminded him, John seemed to think of him as Meredith, or Mer, and that was weird after ten years of being somebody else. It was also nice, because he'd obviously made some kind of mark on John for him to remember him that way.</p><p>But John just took his hand, and started to walk with him past the kitchen door, towards the back doors. "Where are we going?"</p><p>"C'mon. It's a surprise." John tugged him gently enough, and Rodney wanted to dig in his heels.</p><p>But he didn't. It was a knee-jerk response, the urge to tell people no just to see if they listened or if they asininely pushed on, and he didn't want to play that game with John. It was a surprise. A surprise with ice-cream and meatloaf, maybe, and John was only leading him to the back yard.</p><p>God, Rodney hoped there wasn't some kind of orgy planned or something. What sort of orgy came with meatloaf, anyway?</p><p>There wasn't anyone else out on the patio -- just a table, everything neatly covered, a fan blowing to keep off random flying bugs. Everything was set, and there was a pitcher of ice water dewing near the center, a bucket full of ice for the ice cream.</p><p>"Um. You were having problems relaxing. I just thought, maybe..."</p><p>"You could woo me with a picnic?" Which, yes, as soon as he said it, he realized that was what it was. That was a lot of effort for John to put forwards, for no particular reason except his apparent wanting Rodney to relax. Then again, he was trying to make things up to Rodney, to make things better for him. That wasn't all so bad, was it?</p><p>John fidgeted beside him, letting go of Rodney's hand. "Um. Well..."</p><p>"You've had worse ideas." Plus, John was still holding his hand, and Rodney didn't know what to do but tug back at him in response. "I'm all right with it."</p><p>"Hey, I even had 'em make all of your favorites. We've got meatloaf, mac and cheese, got some green beans, got..." John shrugged. "All kinds of things."</p><p>Mac and cheese. He loved it, whether it was in an instant box, or fresh and made with real cheese, so John was hitting at his weak points. "Okay. So, you're doing a good job of trying to woo me with a picnic. What about the elephant in the room?"</p><p>"Elephant? What elephant?" John asked, but he did it with a little twitch of his mouth. "Look. We both know it's there. Everything that happened. So it's not so much an elephant, is it?" Except for the part where John obviously knew it was.</p><p>"Except for the fact that we act strange around each other because no one wants to step in its shit!" Rodney jerked his arm, and had almost forgotten that he was still holding onto John's hand or the other way around.</p><p>"Hey, hey, hey!" John tugged at him, pulled him around in a way that surprised him, and somehow he ended up chest-to-chest with him, separated by inches. "Hey. I just... I just want to make things better. We're here for another six weeks, almost. You're so tense I can practically feel you vibrate, and that's your right. I won't deny that. I just..." The way he seemed to wilt made Rodney feel ridiculously guilty. "I just want to make it better."</p><p>"You have no right to look that good and sound that genuinely sorry. You, you, if we do fix this, you and me, what does it matter? I mean, then what?" Then he supposed that John's father would be laughing at them both from down in hell.</p><p>"Then we feel better, then maybe you won't twitch every time I walk into a room, maybe you won't be medicated to the eyeballs, then..." John pulled back, shoved a hand through his hair. "Jesus, why did I even think this was a good idea?"</p><p>Because he wanted Rodney and Rodney wanted him, and they were both acting like scared idiots. "You really want to fix this, don't you? You think we could... work out somehow?"</p><p>They were still bare centimeters apart, and the green-gold sheen of John's eyes nearly hypnotized him. "Yeah," he murmured softly. "Yeah. I really want to fix this."</p><p>It didn't make Rodney any less of a mess, or any less scared of the whole idea, but as long as he wasn't the only one in the same stupid position, it was almost bearable. "Then I'll try."</p><p>He'd try, and he'd figure out some way to be comfortable with it, and oh. Wow. John was, he was kissing him.</p><p>Rodney remembered the last time John had kissed him, and he felt limp with it, soft the way he hadn't in ten years. His mouth parted, and John lapped gently at his lower lip, nipped at him, and he moaned.</p><p>Gentle heat, light pressure, the motion of lips against his soft and repetitive. There was a lingering nip, a tugging motion that made Rodney open his mouth, let his mouth fall lax in invitation, and John took advantage of it. He swooped in, tongue darting just a little, just enough, and Rodney couldn't help moaning.</p><p>The sound seemed to be enough to get John's attention, make him pull back gently. "God. I thought that first time was just a fluke."</p><p>"Not a fluke." Rodney exhaled, and half leaned in to kiss John back, to start it all over again because it felt wonderful and he wanted more of that, he wanted that never to stop.</p><p>John's thumbs were gentle against his jaw, rubbing just a little, fingers framing his face in a way that made Rodney want to whimper. He hadn't kissed anyone in years, and just this, just <i>this</i>, was enough to make him hard and scared and uncertain and desperate all at once.</p><p>He wanted John, wanted that, the kissing and fingers against his jaw, and more, too. He wanted everything he should have had if things hadn't gone to hell, and he couldn't imagine how he could ever want that after everything that had gone wrong. Rodney leaned in closer, hands dropping to John's waist.</p><p>"Moving too fast?" John asked him, voice all husky murmur. Dinner was waiting for them, but kissing was good, kissing was <i>fantastic</i>, kissing was such an incredibly bad idea.</p><p>He could see where it was going. He could see that John would go too fast, he'd freak out, John wouldn't take no, and then they'd be back ten years in time and he couldn't handle that thought, couldn't help but think about that night, flat out on his stomach, John shoving fingers in his ass.</p><p>"M... maybe, maybe, I don't know. Oh, god, you have no right to be this attractive."</p><p>"Tell you what. I promise to stop being so attractive. We'll grab dinner, go inside, eat it while we watch a movie. And I promise I won't go faster than you can stand. Just... I want you to be able to relax. I want us to be able to sleep, even if we have to, I don't know. Put up a wall of pillows between us or something." John now was different, he was, hands gentle on Rodney's shoulders.</p><p>Not shoving him down against the mattress, pinning him there. There was nothing painful or oppressive about that light touch, but he couldn't turn off his brain. "Uh. Sure. Yeah. Movie and dinner." Maybe it would be enough distraction to keep him from doing what he wanted to do, to keep Rodney from leaning back in towards John, because he wanted to taste the other man's mouth again.</p><p>"And kisses. I mean, if you want." There was that flirtatious look again, and Rodney's heart was pounding. John was just touching the corner of his mouth, fingers gentle and tender on him, and maybe, maybe... Maybe it would be all right.</p><p>They both wanted it. They both wanted whatever was between them to work, and that logically meant that there was no reason for it to fail. They just had to... get to know each other. Get comfortable. Relationships had been built on less than sexual attraction and a murky past. Rodney just wasn't sure if they were decent ones. "I do. I mean, I want. To do that."</p><p>"Good." John seemed to mean it, too. "Good. Great. Then let's, um. Let's grab everything and head inside. Hey, I've got the twenty DVD James Bond collection. Stuff blows up and we can pretend the Roger Moore and George Lazenby flicks didn't happen."</p><p>"The best movie Roger Moore was in was <i>Cannonball Run</i>, and that doesn't say much." It was stupid, yes, but it was distracting enough that when Rodney turned his head he didn't startle at the feeling of John's fingertips against his lips. He wanted to taste them, suck them into his mouth, wanted to move too far too fast.</p><p>"I have <i>Dr. No</i>," John offered, and that was a lot like sex. God. Ursula Andress as Honey Ryder. Who could resist watching a blonde in a bikini like that? Rodney was gay, not stupid.</p><p>"Nnng." Rodney made himself shift, broke the physical contact with John, but it was just to reach for one of the covered food containers that was waiting out there for them. "You had me at <i>Dr. No</i>."</p><p>That grin, that one right there. It was the one that made Rodney shiver just a little. "Hey. You'd have to be blind or dead not to appreciate Dr. No. Especially Ursula Andress and the bikini." He was gathering plates, reaching for the pitcher of ice water. "C'mon."</p><p>"The picnic was a nice idea, but I <i>am</i> the guy who spends most of his time indoors with computers," Rodney reminded John, grabbing what felt like a heavy container. It was either meatloaf or mac and cheese, and either of those got Rodney's attention. Obviously John had put a lot of thought into all of this.</p><p>"Yeah, well, exactly. I figured you could stand to get out for a few minutes." John was grinning at him, almost loose, and wow. Rodney hadn't considered how the tension had to be driving him crazy.</p><p>Driving them both crazy. He was almost accustomed to the low key buzz in the back of his head, the urge to flinch whenever John walked into the room, the trouble it was to get to sleep because his mind was full of memories and nightmares. And while he didn't know what was going on in John's mind, the shift in posture said a lot about how stiff he'd been. "You just negated yourself by offering me movies and food inside. Go, move. Back in the house."</p><p>"You're the boss," John drawled, just like it was easy, just like everything would be okay, and maybe... maybe it would. Maybe it would work out.</p><p>Maybe it really was as easy as dinner on the patio with meatloaf and ice cream.</p><p>God, Rodney hoped it was.</p><hr/>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He was too warm, and there was sunlight coming in through the window blinds.</p><p>It was probably, no, definitely the first time in weeks that he'd slept in like that, and it definitely wasn't enough sleep yet because his head was aching. It took him a moment to work through where he was, what was going on, and that the tired groggy feeling wasn't related at all to booze. He'd just overslept.</p><p>He'd overslept and Rodney was right there pressed up against his side, one arm hooked tight around his pillow.</p><p>Wow.</p><p>It was a toddler word at best, but it was a pretty apt descriptor, all things considered. Wow. Rodney, curled up and warm and sleepy, and <i>finally</i>. Finally, they were getting some rest. If his brain didn't feel like it might leak out of his ears, John figured he'd roll over a little and doze off again, maybe even curl an arm over Rodney's side just to enjoy touching him.</p><p>What he could do was slouch down in bed, pressing his back flat against the mattress to try to get some kinks out.  A few more nights of that, hell, the rest of the time like that, and he'd be all right.  No taking advantage of Rodney, just savoring the fact that he was there, sleeping beside John.</p><p>He wasn't ready to think about the fact that there would come a time when he wouldn't be, and that was pretty fucked up. All he'd wanted was to find Rodney and hand over the divorce papers Ronon had kept together for him. He hadn't wanted any of this, not even close, and yet there it was, perfect and right and it was going to be over sooner than it had any right to be.</p><p>Unless.... unless he could get Rodney to come around to the idea that hey, maybe they could work. Watching <i>Dr. No</i>, and then <i>Diamonds Are Forever</i> with him had been fun. Rodney had a quirky, casual sense of humor, and the more they'd watched and talked, the more Rodney had relaxed. He'd dozed off on the couch after John had put in <i>From Russia With Love</i>, head resting on John's shoulder as he gave tiny puffing snores.</p><p>John hadn't had the heart to wake him up. If Rodney hadn't jostled himself awake sometime around the explosion, John probably would have stayed right there on the couch with him and they both would have been impossibly stiff.</p><p>But sleep was sleep, and John had stopped, left the movie in the DVD player, and had herded him up to bed. The sleepiness had kept Rodney from getting too awkward about things, even after he ducked into the bathroom to change. John hadn't bothered, stripping down to his boxers and dragging on a t-shirt before climbing into bed. Neither of them had taken the time to brush their teeth; Rodney was too sleepy, and John hadn't wanted to chance him waking up and panicking. Instead, they'd snuggled down and... Well. It had been worth the bad morning breath.</p><p>John could go scrub his tongue and teeth whenever he finally decided to crawl out of bed. It was good enough to have Rodney there, mumbling to himself and settling deeper into the bedding.</p><p>The phone rang in the other room, and John ignored it. Who was crazy enough to call at... He glanced at the clock beside the bed. Nine in the morning on a Saturday. Okay, so that wasn't so early, but he wasn't about to talk to anybody on this particular Saturday. No way.</p><p>
  <i>~"I'm coming over. Bye."~</i>
</p><p>Or actually, he could scrabble for the phone to tell Ronon to <i>stay home</i>.</p><p>Odds were that he had seconds to call and tell Ronon not to come over, because his friend and lawyer, well, he tended to move fast once he'd made up his mind. But John almost tripped, tangling up in the bedding while he got to his feet.</p><p>"'mzleebing."</p><p>Okay. Bombs going off obviously couldn't wake Rodney on a good day. "'s okay, Rodney. I just gotta get the phone." Call Ronon back and crawl back in bed. It was a plan. A good plan. Right?</p><p>Right. He liked plans that were that simple and easy to handle, because why would Ronon be on his way over? He got a hold of the portable, and started to dial.</p><p>"Whzdoin?"</p><p>Coffee was obviously first on the List of Things to Do because Rodney was trying to talk, trying to be awake. He was just completely failing at it.</p><p>"Calling Ronon before he comes over. He's a little..." Daunting. Rodney might go into the guest bathroom and lock himself in and never come out, actually.</p><p>It was ringing, and ringing, and John knew he'd hear four more rings before he got forwarded to Ronon's answering service. Shit. </p><p>"Whzee?"</p><p>"Best friend." Since they were kids, actually. He'd been the one who'd met the courier at the door, handed over those lying pictures that had made John into an idiot. Jesus. He shouldn't have been so stupid. "He's a great guy. Just. You know. Tall." And kind of intimidating to a lot of people. He was scary as hell in a courtroom.</p><p>"Hhhnn." Rodney shifted, rolled onto his belly, and promptly smushed his face down into the pillow. It made John want to crawl back into bed, made him want to reach out and touch the stripe of skin where Rodney's t-shirt rode up. But Ronon would be there, either soon or after he stopped to get a coffee, and John knew better than to try to ignore him.</p><p>"Hey, Rodneyyy." He couldn't help whining a little. "Rodney. Let's call out for breakfast. C'mon. I'm sure somebody's bound to deliver. I'm hungry."</p><p>"Mmph." Rodney pushed up onto his elbows, though, and finally lifted his head to look at John. "Food?"</p><p>Yeah. The way to a man's heart wasn't through his chest cavity, no matter what his mother had taught him. It was definitely that whole stomach thing. "Pancakes," John tempted. "Scones. Omelets." He paused. "<i>Coffee</i>."</p><p>The mattress creaked when Rodney drew a knee up, ass pressed up against the sheet while he pushed himself to his hands and knees to slide out  of bed. "Coming."</p><p>Oh, God, they were going to need to saint John just for resisting in that particular moment. "I'll go put on the coffee," he managed to eke before heading out of the bedroom.</p><p>He could have leaned in, smacked Rodney's ass, squeezed it, and he hadn't. He was being good, great, and heading down the stairs in quick, hard thudding steps, a hand on the railing while he made his way down to the kitchen. God. Sharing a bed with Rodney in the comfortable way might be as hard as the hard way. Tense way. It was hard either way.</p><p>"<i>Aigh</i>," John mumbled to himself, flipping on the kitchen lights and heading for the coffee pot. He obviously needed caffeine just as bad as Rodney did, circular thoughts dancing in his head until it was all he could do to think, to function, to... not do any of the things he very much wanted to do. "Get with it, Sheppard."</p><p>He wasn't allowed to make the first move, not any big ones. He could prod a little and suggest and present Rodney with scenarios where he could choose one or the other, but he wasn't going to do anything that he was thinking, no way, no how. </p><p>John had gotten through dumping scoops of coffee into the drip when the doorbell rang.</p><p>Jesus. Ronon had better have brought coffee with him if he was going to be this early.</p><p>He laid the coffee pot down without filling it and left the kitchen, moving past the dining room table and into the foyer. He didn't even bother looking out the door because it was bound to be Ronon, right?</p><p>Except for the part where it wasn't.</p><p>It was Mara, all long blonde hair and curls, Mara with her tailored clothes and the stubborn set of her jaw, arms folded over her chest. "Good morning to you, too."</p><p>"What exactly seems good about it?" John honestly couldn't find an answer for that one. After all. She was on his doorstep, and pushing her way past him, in fact, heading back towards the kitchen he'd just come from.</p><p>"I suppose your pet cock-sucker didn't put out, then?" That stung, and her arms were still crossed tightly over her chest, all anger. "I want to meet the person who so very easily replaced me."</p><p>"Re... Mara, I've been married to Rodney for <i>ten years</i>," John protested. "You knew that to start with!"</p><p>"And you swore to me, swore up and down that it was all arranged by your father, and the moment you found where the bastard had run off to, you'd divorce him. And you <i>haven't</i>." The way she said it, her voice pitched as if it was something he didn't know already.</p><p>Sometimes, John honestly wondered what he'd seen in her. Then again, he knew the truth. She was pretty and pushy and it was just easier to let her do her thing while he did his own. "Yeah, well, <i>I lied</i>," he said finally, leaning insolently against the door frame. "All things considered, I like Rodney better than I like you."</p><p>It made her pretty pale face flush with angry red, and Mara's teeth clenched in a way that John had always found nervously attractive. Maybe he was drawn to her for all the same reasons he was drawn to Rodney -- that willingness to tell him where to shove it. "I can't believe you. I thought you were serious about me, that you'd, that you'd realize what a failure of an idea this was and call me, or?"</p><p>He could hear barefooted padding of feet against the floor as Rodney meandered into the kitchen. "Why don't I smell coffee?"</p><p>"I didn't get it fixed. Just fill up the pot and pour it in, but don't let the lid drop or it'll spill out all over the burner. We can get something fancier later." John was a real fan of fast caffeine early in the day, especially when he was faced with the kind of disaster he was looking at here. "Look, Mara...."</p><p>"Oh my god. Is that Meredith?" She sounded shocked, looked shocked, actually, from the way her mouth opened slightly and just hung there. "That's, you left me for <i>him</i>?"</p><p>"I doubt that. He probably left you because of your subsonic screeching -- who are you?"</p><p>"Rodney, meet my ex-girlfriend. Mara, I'd like you to meet my partner."</p><p>John could see the way she goggled at them both, and then looked back at Rodney. His hair was thinning a little, but it was cut neatly, even if it was sticking up in little tufts. His face was still a little puffy with sleep, eyes blurred with morning and too much rest.</p><p>He was still more beautiful to John than Mara, who had never let him see her smeared or clean-faced. She was already up and awake before he was in the morning, and never left so much as a sock lying around.  "Oh. This is awkward." Rodney carefully turned the coffee pot on, and turned towards her. "I guess you're leaving now?"</p><p>"I think I need to be sure I haven't left anything upstairs."</p><p>There was no way to stop the noise that escaped him. "Jesus, Mara. You've never left so much as your toothbrush, and it's been weeks. What makes you think there's anything of yours here now?"</p><p>"I'm missing a pair of earrings." And for that, she wanted to barge around his bedroom and probably mentally satisfy herself about how gay John was or wasn't.</p><p>"We cleaned before I moved in," Rodney deadpanned. "No earrings were found."</p><p>Her mouth was opening again already when Ronon's deep voice interrupted. "Besides, you got those earrings you were always wearing from that bald guy in Kansas when he dumped you, right?"</p><p>Score one for Ronon.</p><p>"Oh, Jesus, who are you?" Rodney missed the dig Ronon had got in against Mara, and just stared wide-eyed up at Ronon.</p><p>"It's none of your business where I got them from," Mara snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. "I just want to see if they're upstairs."</p><p>John wanted to tell Rodney it was okay; he was busy watching Ronon tower over Mara though. She was unintimidated, but it was still a nice try. "Take it to the magistrate court if you're that interested. It won't work out the way you want it to."</p><p>God, life was good.</p><p>"If they happen to get stepped on, I'm pretty sure that John knows where you live and can mail them on." Rodney shrugged his shoulders, still staring up at Ronon more than Mara, and at least it was a distraction from the cat-fight Rodney could have probably launched into.</p><p>John didn't even want to contemplate the bitch-slapping frenzy that might start up.</p><p>"Those were very expensive earrings!"</p><p>"Magistrate court," Ronon rumbled again, and he was as smug as a cat who'd managed to dip his canary in cream before gobbling it down. John had the greatest best friend <i>ever</i>.</p><p>"We'll even check the vacuum cleaner. Oh, hey, you could harass the cleaning service, but I wouldn't if I were you." Rodney didn't even like to tangle with Caldwell.</p><p>Mara was practically hissing. "I still have a key."</p><p>"I called a locksmith." He hadn't, but he would.</p><p>He could because he didn't want Rodney freaking out over his personal security. Rodney already had his arms crossed over his chest, and frowned tightly. "What's your problem? You and John are broken up. Just let it go."</p><p>"Woman." They both turned their heads at that, and John couldn't blame them. Ronon was putting on his lawyer face, and seriously. John was starting to think one of them might wet their pants over it. "Don't make threats in front of a man's lawyer."</p><p>"Fine. Fine! But if I find out you're keeping them from me out of spite..." She let that one hang, and Ronon was probably noting it down as a threat, too. Just as well. In retrospect, she was scary, actually. </p><p>"Oh, yes, because I'm so interested in wearing earrings." Rodney's mouth was pursed primly, and it made John want to kiss him.</p><p>A lot.</p><p>"You might be, <i>Meredith</i>!" Mara snapped that off, before turning to let herself back out the door that John had accidentally let her in through.</p><p>"And you dated her why, again?" Rodney asked, and John couldn't help grinning at him.</p><p>"She had big tits. You know." Ronon reached up and motioned breasts on his own chest. "You don't have any, but he seems to like you okay. Must be your smart mouth."</p><p>John rolled his eyes and held back a morning yawn. God. <i>Coffee</i>. "Definitely his smart mouth, among other things."</p><p>Rodney leaned back against the edge of the table, and rubbed at one eye. "Yes yes, and who are you again? Lawyer?"</p><p>"Ronon Dex. Lawyer, best friend." Ronon held out his hand. "He's got bad taste in women. You'll have to forgive him."</p><p>"Hey!" John protested, scowling as he reached out and snagged a coffee cup. "I do not have bad taste in women! I just... you know. Things don't work out. I never see it coming."</p><p>His best friend snorted. "Yeah. His dad didn't, either."</p><p>"I always thought that he cheated around on women?" Rodney asked, offering his hand back to shake Ronon's. "Hey, get me coffee, too, John."</p><p>Ronon gave a shrug. He still towered over Rodney, but it was funny. Rodney wasn't intimidated in the least, not like most people were. "Because he chose the wrong ones. The right one keeps you at home."</p><p>John poured two cups of coffee, rummaging in a cabinet for that crazy creamer stuff Rodney liked so much. "Says the man who hasn't managed a steady girlfriend since before high school."</p><p>"Haven't found the right one. Not much point in messing things up past fixing until I have."</p><p>"It's not like serial dating has gotten you any further than not-serial dating has gotten your friend here." Rodney did give Ronon a hinky look, but John was pretty sure it was the height thing getting to him. Rodney always was prone to puffing up big and tall as he could manage, and there was no way he was going to beat Ronon on that.</p><p>Ronon gave a grunt. "I like your wife, Sheppard. He's got good ideas."</p><p>"Oh, ha, ha, very funny." John could feel his bottom lip poking out as he brought Rodney his coffee.</p><p>"Husband," Rodney corrected, reaching out to take the coffee. Rodney didn't take it so much as he hugged it close for a moment and then nursed sips off of it until it cooled off enough to actually drink. "I have a penis and everything."</p><p>"Huh. Never would have noticed if you hadn't said." Yeah, that was Ronon, all right. "Glad you let me know, though."</p><p>John cleared his throat. "So. It's early. What are you doing here this time of day, aside from, you know. Fending off my ex-girlfriend?"</p><p>"Just that. Fending off your ex girlfriend. She called me. Wanted to ask about your divorce papers."</p><p>Oh. Yeah. Those.</p><p>"They're still on my desk upstairs." They hadn't talked about them. The original plan had been to sign them, and go back to life-the-way-it-was. Things had gotten changed around with their companies and his dad's will, and they hadn't talked about it since. From Rodney's vaguely stricken facial expression, John still didn't want to talk about it.</p><p>"Yeah, I figured." Ronon gave Rodney a look, and then moved past John to help himself to the coffee. "I told her you weren't serious about it."</p><p>"Hey!" John protested. "I was so serious about it!" Before, anyway. Not so much now, even if he couldn't help pouting about it. "I could be serious."</p><p>The fact that Ronon snorted in answer pretty much said it all.</p><p>"<i>Are</i> you serious? Because last night, that didn't exactly seem to be part of your... plan." No, the night before had been quiet fun, wooing and sleeping well, and now Rodney was frowning at him. Not a miserable frown, but a sort of angry frown.</p><p>"Not so much now." Things were looking better, and John wasn't crazy enough to think that having Rodney pissed at him could be good. "Actually, not so much before, either."</p><p>"There's a couple that I work for where the husband draws up new papers twice a year and never uses them," Ronon shrugged. "It's okay. "</p><p>"And we haven't even been living together until now." All things considered, that didn't work out so badly, John figured.</p><p>"Right." Rodney nodded vaguely, clinging tight to his coffee mug. "I, uh. We'll just have to see how things go."</p><p>Things had been going pretty well last night, even if Rodney looked nervous this morning. That was okay. Nervous wasn't so bad, especially when John figured he could be having anxiety attacks left and right. "Seems like a good idea."</p><p>Ronon leaned against his counter. "Hey. How do you feel about curling?"</p><p>"It's not as fun as hockey, but it takes a certain amount of mental precision." Rodney took another sip off the edge of his cup, eyeing Ronon.</p><p>"See, now here's a man who understands sports. Not like that pussy football crap you make me watch." Ronon seemed entirely too pleased with himself.</p><p>All things considered, John should probably be more insulted by that than he was. He'd spent fifteen years with Ronon as his best friend, though, so he was accustomed to that. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."</p><p>"Not 'yeah yeah, whatever'. If you can make football interesting, John, I'll..." Rodney seemed to think for a moment. "Well, I'm not sure what I'll do, but it doesn't matter since it's impossible. It's all men in huge padding, smashing into each other for all of thirty seconds before someone blows a whistle. Then they all rush to the benches, drink Gatorade, and rest for fifteen or twenty minutes."</p><p>Okay, so that was pretty accurate. "Hey, anything's more entertaining than <i>curling</i>," John stressed.</p><p>"I kinda like curling. Guys with brooms and big stones." Ronon grinned, that expression almost vicious. "Bigger stones than football players, anyway."</p><p>"Curling is, it's brainy and it takes a lot more precision to sweep it just right -- too hard, the stone goes too far, too light, you come up short, and if you can't move with it and sweep, then you look like an idiot." Rodney waved his free hand. "Now, hockey is a fantastic sport."</p><p>"Yeah, all those sticks and the hitting and the blood." John was starting to feel like he'd lost his best friend here. "It's better than sex."</p><p>"I'm inclined to agree with that." Rodney lifted an eyebrow slightly, and glanced over at John, and then the clock. "Mmm. Why are we up this early?"</p><p>"Because somebody called and woke us up." John gave Ronon a dirty look. "Which, you know, I mostly appreciate except from the part where we were in bed, sleeping, for the first time in weeks."</p><p>Rodney's face started to flush a little red in places, and he took another large sip off of his mug. "I've missed sleep. We need to do that more often."</p><p>"That's good to know. That you're getting sleep, I mean." There was no mistaking the smug twist of Ronon's lips. "Took long enough."</p><p>"Yeah, well, a ten year feud'll do that."</p><p>"Mmm. Thanks for the, the heads up phone call, I guess." Rodney nodded to Ronon, a vague gesture. "That would have been unpleasant if she'd been upstairs."</p><p>John could only imagine. Another fifteen minutes and he might have braved kissing Rodney awake, and that could have been difficult. "All things considered, I think that's an understatement."</p><p>Ronon grinned, all teeth while he drained off the coffee he'd snuck. "So, everything working out here? I was thinking about having a barbecue later today, if you want to come by."</p><p>"You doing the barbecuing?" John eyeballed him. "'cause the last time you burned off your eyebrows and all. It's taken a while to get your hair like that, you know."</p><p>"Hey, I have a  technique now that you have to see." Hopefully it didn't involve Ronon's carefully tended hair catching fire after too much lighter fluid. Then again, John had come pretty close to a crispy fate then, too.</p><p>"Ah, men setting meat on fire."</p><p>John snorted. "Like you don't have the same fascination with it that every other man does. It's built-in, a byproduct of testosterone."</p><p>"I know chicks who like it," Ronon offered.</p><p>"There's liking it and then there's knowing how best to apply science to correctly burn your meat."</p><p>"We can make it a challenge," Ronon countered. "If you want to try to show me what you've got."</p><p>The smug expression that made its way over Rodney's face, the twist of his mouth, both went straight to all of John's cock. It was pretty amazing, and very wrong. "Oh, you're on."</p><p>"So long as you don't burn off your eyebrows, you're one up on him," John offered.</p><p>"I'll provide the lighter fluid." Ronon set the coffee mug down. "Five p.m., Sheppard. Be there."</p><p>"You're the boss." John held out his fist, and did a tight, complicated hand motion with Ronon that had Rodney snorting with amusement. "Rodney likes cheeseburgers."</p><p>"With a variety of cheeses." Rodney was pleased that John had used his name. "We'll be there."</p><p>Ronon grunted, and headed out the way Mara had gone, leaving the house a lot more quietly, and John was alone with Rodney.</p><p>"So." John cleared his throat. "You want breakfast or...?"</p><p>"Yeah. Uh..." Rodney set his cup down, and his posture wavered a little towards awkward. "Breakfast is good. So, uh, last night..."</p><p>"Yeah?" Yeah, because he wanted Rodney to say something. To say anything, actually, so that he knew which way to go. He wanted to have something to go on so that he could make the right choice. That wasn't asking too much, right?</p><p>"It was... really nice." It seemed like Rodney was going out on a limb to say that, but then he went on. "I, the sleep was nice, too. That you didn't do anything."</p><p>Okay. Obviously not going back to bed, then. "I want you to be able to trust me," John said, shrugging a little. "Giving that up to have my wicked way with you isn't worth it, wouldn't you say?"</p><p>"Yeah. Also, the payoff for having your wicked way with me just hasn't been worth it, has it?" The words didn't have the exact sting that he was almost used to. Not when Rodney was standing there in his kitchen barefoot, his hips canted out slightly.</p><p>John shrugged. "I'm older and smarter. Plus, you know. I'm starting to enjoy your company a lot. All of that stuff makes a pretty big difference."</p><p>"It doesn't have to make a difference. I mean, there are people out there that it wouldn't make any difference at all to."</p><p>There probably were. It was true. "I'm not one of them," John said finally, quietly, picking up the coffee pot and moving to warm up Rodney's cup. "Tell you what. We can go pick up breakfast someplace or I can scramble some eggs while you make some toast."</p><p>"I don't feel like getting dressed yet." Rodney reached behind him, fiddling with the handle of what had to be an empty coffee mug. "I could probably go crawl back into bed, except that I'm hungry."</p><p>"So let's not get dressed. We'll eat breakfast, wander around in pajamas, and nap on the couches in the living room while we watch bad television. Sounds like a pretty good plan for a Saturday, don't you think?"</p><p>"Sounds like being at home." Except with company, which made a world of difference to John. Scrambled eggs and toast it would be, because Rodney couldn't screw with toast.</p><p>He was <i>really</i> hoping they'd all still have eyebrows at the end of the night.</p><p>"Good. That's just what I wanted to hear." Yeah. It was, actually. "Butter's on the bar over there in the butter bell... thing." He slid the pot back onto the burner.</p><p>Thing. Rodney turned to look at it -- clear, square, and filled with upside down butter -- and then declared, "And your girlfriends thought you were straight?"</p><p>"Hey!" Okay, he couldn't exactly be too offended. "I thought I was straight." John looked at Rodney, really looked at him. "Still am, I think. Just, you know. You're the exception. Every rule's got one."</p><p>"So I'm it?" Rodney leaned against the table again, just for a moment, before he moved to get the butter. "You're my exception, I suppose."</p><p>Huh. Well, that was a surprise. "So you're not ordinarily...?"</p><p>"Interested in sex. Either or. I actually had a huge crush on this woman who taught at my university for a semester, but I think she was troubled by my academic prowess. Some people can't date a person who's smarter than them."</p><p>"Well, it's a good thing you have a healthy ego and I've got no problem whatsoever with either of those things." John reached into the refrigerator and pulled out the eggs and some shredded cheese, scrounging for a tomato. "What do you like in your eggs?"</p><p>"Cheese is great. Or meat. Or both." There was a flash of smile from Rodney, and he brought the butter back to John, held out in offering. </p><p>There was no way to keep from smiling back at that. "Tomato?" he asked, taking it willingly before he leaned across because he just couldn't stop himself, pressing his lips to Rodney's.</p><p>The tomato question wasn't going to get an answer. Rodney went still for a moment, and then pressed his mouth back against John's, lips parting to invite more. He hadn't been able to wake Rodney up with a kiss, but this was the next best thing.</p><p>"Hi," he whispered finally when they came apart, Rodney's lower lip clinging just a little to his upper one in a way that made John want to devour him. Somehow, he managed to keep from doing it. It took a lot of effort.</p><p>Rodney exhaled, like he was surprised all over again. He'd probably keep on being that surprised, but John didn't know for how long it would keep up. "Hi. I could get used to this."</p><p>"Kind of nice." John leaned over to kiss him again. It was just as good, lingering and sweet, remarkable in its way. He pulled away to clear his throat. "So. Um. Tomato?"</p><p>"Tomato," Rodney agreed, leaning forwards just a little like he wished John hadn't broken the second kiss after all. "I could try tomato."</p><p>"Anything else?" It was murmured against those lips, and they were ridiculously soft, just a little chapped from a night spent snoring into John's dead-to-the-world ear. He curled his hand around Rodney's hipbone, thumb rubbing gently against his belly.</p><p>The waistband of Rodney's sleep-pants rested low, and if he moved his thumb slightly he could push it down, nudge it out of the way and touch bare skin. Rodney didn't answer for a moment, leaning vaguely against John's hand, before he blurted, "I want you."</p><p>Oh, thank God.</p><p>"Mmmm." John kissed him again, that same dallying pace, and let himself find Rodney's skin. When he finally came back up, he let out a low, unsteady sigh. "Good. Me, too." Him, too, yes, but... "Too soon."</p><p>"Right." Rodney leaned against his hand, though, and he moved one arm to John's upper arm. "So, uh. Breakfast?"</p><p>"Umhm." Yeah, but one more kiss, and one became two became four or five and maybe they were edged with something remarkably like desperation.</p><p>There was saying it, and then there was moving in closer to John and getting both hands on him in a way that proved to John that yeah, Rodney did want him probably as much if not more than he wanted breakfast, and it would have been so easy to take things a lot further, a lot faster. It would make things harder, though, so he finally pulled away, moved to the other side of the breakfast bar, and tried to get himself back together.</p><p>"Okay. Obviously it's going to take effort here," he said, giving Rodney a wry smile. "Huh. Wow."</p><p>Rodney's chest moved up and down, one, two hard breaths before he nodded his head. "Right, yeah. Yeah. Uh, I'm pretty sure I, we could, but it..."</p><p>"Bad idea," John agreed. "Right now. Maybe later. Maybe we should put on clothes and go out for breakfast after all." Yeah, because otherwise things were going to get hot way too soon, and he wanted to work on the whole sleeping thing first.</p><p>Rodney nodded his head after a moment of staring at John. "Yeah, okay. I'll be back down, then."</p><p>"Okay." That was a good idea, because if he went upstairs with Rodney, they wouldn't come back <i>down</i>stairs, and that would just be... yeah. Not a good idea.</p><p>Keeping his libido in check long enough to get out the door was a good idea. So John hung back while Rodney turned to head back up the stairs. He'd just busy himself putting everything away.</p><p>Maybe that would keep him out of trouble.</p><hr/><p>He was going to be in so much trouble.</p><p>Not trouble, exactly. It wasn't like John was going to get mad or anything. It was just that... Well. Things had been going great. They'd been sleeping, they'd been keeping everything low despite obvious desires for doing otherwise. Rodney had been getting along with Ronon like gangbusters, and that was what led to getting home so late.</p><p>He hadn't thought he'd be that late. There was late, yes, and then there was late, and then, then there was realizing that it was fifteen after midnight, and rushing back to the house with no idea at all how John was going to react. He had keys, which helped with the whole sneaking into the house full of stealth idea.</p><p>Rodney wasn't sure he'd been so nervous about getting home late since he was sixteen, and it felt a little weird. It felt like he should feel a little more guilty than he did because John had worked late so Rodney had gone over to Ronon's and they'd spent a lot of time juicing up his grill and then playing some kind of utterly ridiculous game in his den.</p><p>His fingers were sore from trying to hit the faux frets of the guitar at just the right speed. There was a certain rhythm to it, a certain sense of logic that he'd just started to get into when his left hand had cramped up all to hell, and well. He'd probably end up back there trying to play more just to prove he could do it, but for the moment he was tired and trying to get up the stairs without making them squeak. He winced every time one of them did, sneaking up the edges until he neared the top. Light filtered out of the bedroom door, and he paused nervously.</p><p>"Rodney?" John didn't sound pissed or even worried. "That you?"</p><p>"Yeah. You uh. Weren't waiting up for me, were you?" He peered into the bedroom door. The light over the bed was on, and there were reading glasses perched on John's nose. It made his breath catch a little because, seriously. <i>Reading glasses</i>. They were ridiculously hot, much hotter than the god-awful Russian novel spread open on his lap.</p><p>"Nah. I knew you were at Ronon's. I usually read before bed when I sleep alone." John smiled at him, and okay. Maybe that was true.</p><p>"We played some insanely strange guitar-playing game on his Xbox." Rodney stepped in through the doorway, still eying John. The glasses were still hot after a second, and then a third look. "He's a good guy. reminds me of Radek."</p><p>"Yeah, well, I'm glad you had a good time." The way John was looking at him made Rodney squirm. "Next time, call and let me know you're coming home, okay? I just called him to check on you."</p><p>So he had been worried, after all. It left Rodney torn between mentally crowing, or feeling like John was keeping tabs on him. "Right, sorry. I'll just... duck into the bathroom and be right out. Gaming is exhausting."</p><p>"I'm not going anywhere," John promised, and God, Rodney hoped not because... yeah, okay, just looking at him like that was making Rodney pretty damn hot. That was maybe even an understatement.</p><p>Rodney stopped long enough to set his wallet and keys on the dresser, and to grab his sleep clothes before he ducked into the bathroom. John was out there waiting, which made things different from how it usually was. They usually went up at the same time, moved around each other, maneuvered, and went to sleep like that. It was all mutual, mutual motion and easy companionship. It wasn't John, bare chested and reading with those glasses on, and seriously. <i>Glasses</i>. Rodney had never known he had a kink about those until this very moment. Radek's glasses had never turned him on, and that was something to think about as he quickly brushed his teeth and washed his hands before slipping into pajama bottoms and pulling his t-shirt on.</p><p>Glasses could be <i>very</i> hot, and John was bare chested. Bare chested meant no t-shirt and it shouldn't have been something Rodney needed to think over, but it was. It made him hesitate, hand on the doorknob, before he finally opened it. After all, John wouldn't be in bed without pants, too.</p><p>Would he?</p><p>That was just a ridiculous thought because they'd agreed to wait and of course they were halfway through the whole living-together thing but... Well, it just didn't seem to make any particular sense to wait anymore, not really. So Rodney was nervous. He had a right to be nervous, all things considered, to be terrified stiff.</p><p>He wasn't, not as much as he'd expected to be. He had his nervous moments, and he called Teyla roughly once every thirty-six hours, but he still had a few of the pills in that first bottle. And maybe it was time to work on the personal space and all the other issues.</p><p>So he opened the door and stepped back into the bedroom, scrubbing a hand over his hair. "Mmm."</p><p>John slipped a marker into his book and settled it on the night stand, giving a jaw-cracking yawn. His glasses came off afterwards, and perched neatly on top of the book. "Ready for bed?"</p><p>"Yeah." It was familiar now to reach a hand out to pull the sheets down. The mattress seemed to be all but inviting him in to lie down, to shift across it and curl up against John the way they'd become accustomed to sleeping. The thought alone was pleasant, shivery, and Rodney climbed into it, moving into the middle of the bed.</p><p>John reached up and turned out the light, and Rodney put his cheek on his pillow, looking across at him in the dark. John shifted down slowly, on his back. There was just enough light coming through the window behind Rodney that he could see John's face in grainy, vaguely colorless profile as his eyes started to adjust. "So, is it a good book?"</p><p>"Dostoevsky? It's okay." He sounded amused in the darkness, and no wonder. "I usually get in about three pages and pass out. The best is Dickens. <i>Bleak House</i>? I never got past the first hundred pages because all it took was a couple of paragraphs. Better than warm milk."</p><p>"Boring books we were forced to read in literature class -- best treatment for insomnia, huh? I prefer to just work until my eyes roll in my head." Or play games until his fingers hurt, apparently. Using talk as a cover, Rodney shifted slightly, until his left knee pressed against one of John's thighs. Just the edge, just a little pressure.</p><p>The heat that radiated between them was fantastic, left him trembling a little, wanting more. "Well, I don't know. Depends on the book. I always liked some of the others, the more obscure ones, you know." John shifted, turned towards him, and it was all he could do not to whimper. "I can't stand Hawthorne, but I get a sick enjoyment out of Melville."</p><p>"With the whale?" That <i>was</i> kind of sick, if that was the one Rodney was thinking of. He'd always honestly hated literature class, but he'd only had to take two English courses in college, and it had been worth wading through to get to the meatier things that interested him. He shifted a little closer, and felt John's arm curl loosely over his side.</p><p>"Hm, yeah. The professor who did it was enthusiastic. Junior year, American lit. I figured it was better than the sociology class that I'd been putting off three years already." Oh, yes, sociology was even less useful than English. "He swore up and down it was a big metaphor for dick to shock the guy's neighbors."</p><p>"So, the insistence on spearing it?" Rodney edged closer, just enough that it was hard to focus on John's face. The intimacy of sleeping with him was nice, and Teyla seemed encouraged by the ground he'd gained about his personal space.</p><p>John laughed, a good sound. It wasn't a particularly attractive laugh -- he tended to make a ridiculous drawing in of air that sounded a little like a dying mule -- but it made Rodney feel good, all the same, because he caused it. "I'm not sure. I think it's a bad metaphor."</p><p>"The captain as a mad mad piercing boutique worker. Yeah, I think it loses something when you infer that he wants to give the whale a prince albert." He was testing his limits, moving every once in a while, nudging his knee forwards and edging in a shoulder so he could touch more of John.</p><p>"Hmmm." He didn't seem to mind it. In fact, he seemed to like it. "You ever think about getting something like that? I mean, you know, your....?"</p><p>"No. No, no, no, I am <i>not</i> into pain. I've seen pictures, yes, it's sometimes attractive on some level, but..." No. No, and he could touch as much of John as he wanted. He could do <i>whatever</i> he wanted, maybe even.</p><p>John gave that funny, whinnying laugh again. "Yeah, well, sometimes you're young and drunk and stupid and...."</p><p>"You're kidding?" Rodney almost wanted to see, no, he did want to see, except reaching down there to grab might've given John all the right ideas. They were squirming, though, and John was tickling him just a little so that he gave his own delighted almost-laugh, and if anyone had told him a month ago that he would be here, doing this, he'd have called them crazy.</p><p>"No I'm not <i>kidding</i>! I told you. Young, drunk, stupid."</p><p>"Do you still have it?" John's fingers stole over his t-shirt, tickling at his side, and Rodney felt one leg twitch out tight in reaction.</p><p>"Wanna feel?"</p><p>That was quite possibly the single dirtiest proposition Rodney had ever been on the receiving end of. It went straight to his dick, and that was almost embarrassing.</p><p>"Yeah. Yeah, I do and if I do we're going to end up--" Well, end up doing everything he wanted to do, and there was no reason for them not to.</p><p>He heard the rasp of John's tongue over his lips, the heavy stubble that became apparent somewhere around noon. "We could. I mean. If you were interested."</p><p>"I'm interested." More interested than anything at all, more attracted than he'd ever expected to be at the prospect of bona fide sex with a real person who'd genuinely hurt him years ago, nearly destroyed him.</p><p>God, was he insane?</p><p>Maybe. Probably. Almost certainly, but then John was pushing him over onto his back, all tenderness and gentle touches, coming over him to kiss him the way he did over coffee in the kitchen. It was perfect, and it made things so close to right. The thought-memory of the last time was there, but there hadn't been kissing. Kissing like that was soothing, John's lips lingering hot against his own, opening for him when Rodney wanted to taste, wanted to slide tongue against skin just because he could. Rodney got a hand in John's hair, vaguely damp like he'd showered before bed.</p><p>"Tell me if I go too fast." The words were blurred against his skin, and Rodney thought he could almost feel them slipping into him, the rough scrape of John's beard making room for them in his skin. His hands were on Rodney, one on his hip, the other somewhere between his arm and his chest, and God. God, he didn't think John could go too fast even if he wanted.</p><p>He wanted John to go too fast. Rodney wanted John's hands to roam, that one on his hip to slide up and then down, pushing his t-shirt up and pressing vaguely callused palm flat against his stomach, smoothing over skin. "Yeah, if. If, I will..."</p><p>"Good," John said, and rocked forward, hard against Rodney's thigh, and the answering shudder that rippled through him shouldn't have been so fucking incredible. God, it shouldn't have been, but it <i>was</i>, it so was, and he couldn't stop himself from rocking back. "Oh, God, this is good." His mouth was on Rodney's throat, soft and sweet, the nip of a rasp making all of it that much better.</p><p>"Uhn, fuck." Fuck. John's chin pushed at the neck of his t-shirt, and all Rodney wanted to do was strip it off so he could feel more than pressure through and against fabric, the hard rock of John's hips against his own thigh that made his dick twinge.</p><p>Fuck was the right word, because that mysterious lost hand had managed to catch the bottom edge of his t-shirt and oh. Oh, John was pulling it up and pulling away, getting it over his head, and then they were there, chest to chest, and John was kissing him again, thumbs on his nipples, and oh. Fuck. God! "I've wanted...." John moaned, and he flicked them again, and Rodney wanted to yell.</p><p>He couldn't, didn't. Rodney swallowed a whimper, rolled it in his mouth the way John's fingers slipped and rolled over his nipples, circling them in sync. "Slower, oh, god, slower, that, nothing should feel that good, nothing."</p><p>"I can make it feel better." It wasn't an empty promise, either, because John was working his way down with his mouth, scraping his chin gently over Rodney's collar bone and lathing afterwards with his tongue, and that was good, that was so good. He liked the feeling of the faint beard, the rasp against his skin and then the warm wet slide of John's tongue just after, before the scrape and lick edged over a nipple. There weren't words in Rodney's head to explain it, just streams of thought that blurred through old memory and overshadowed any feelings that doing it to himself had ever left. It was the kind of explosion of nerve-endings that he hadn't felt since that one time with the stuff and the thing, and he'd never repeated it because the pleasure had been so intense he had thought he would pass out.</p><p>"You're fucking incredible," John moaned, taking one tiny bud of a nipple and working it with his tongue and his lips and his teeth in a way that left Rodney a shuddering mess.</p><p>That was what it should have been. That was what sex was supposed to be, what they always talked about on TV and in books and on the internet. John was real porn, sucking at one impossibly sensitive piece of skin, and he had to lift his hips, fuck, wanted to rub his dick up against John's body through his pajama pants.</p><p>That felt good, too, and he could hear himself, hear the sounds that he was making. He'd probably be embarrassed about it later, all things considered, but that was later. Right at the moment, all he could thing was how good it was, how good it would continue to be, how much he wanted to bring his hands up and thread them through John's crazy hair. There was nothing else to do but clutch at John with his hands, hold on for the ride. John's arms felt as good as his hair and god, once he got his hands in John's hair, Rodney decided that he didn't want to ever let go, because no hair should be that wild and soft and damp feeling at the same time. His fingers clenched, held tight, and John moved to his other nipple in retaliation.</p><p>He could feel the way John rocked against him, cock low on his thigh, nearer his knee than Rodney's own dick. Still, the way John was touching him, lapping at him, teasing him, made up for all of that. Every motion made him whine, drove him a little higher, made him a little hotter. He was burning up, but there was no way he'd stop, no way he'd give it up. It was too much, and too good, and just right.</p><p>"You gonna come, Rodney?" John's voice was whiskey-rough against his chest. "Can I get my hand on you? If I stroke you, are you gonna spill?"</p><p>"Yeah." His voice sounded raw, stretched out, and all he could do was raise his hips again, pressing his dick up against John's body so hard that he knew he had to be getting the fabric wet. "Please..."</p><p>Please, and John's <i>hand</i>, John's <i>hand</i>, it was scrabbling at the tie of his sleep pants and then slipping inside, and he was actually being touched, and <i>yes, yes, yes, </i><b>yes</b>, this was everything sex should ever be, it was perfect, and maybe he was even saying that out loud.</p><p>He <i>was</i> talking, mumbling, arching up against John's tight grip. It was easy to fall into a pace that matched the slide of John's fingers over his dick, too close too soon but it didn't matter. There was no law calling it a one time thing, and John kissed his stomach while he tried to thrust back.</p><p>"Come for me." John's nose traced over his belly with every movement and oh. Oh. <i>God</i>, it was... He was... "Come for me so that I can taste you, lick you up."</p><p>That was enough.</p><p>He was done, finito, over in a moment, a sharp moment that felt so much better than any orgasm he'd ever had, because John's fingers didn't stop right away, sliding over his skin even when it started to ache, when his balls twinged and all he could do was breathe hard and try to catch that breath.</p><p>"God." The sound of it was shattered, and then John lapped at his belly, traced his tongue over the vulnerable head of Rodney's cock, and all he could do was whimper like a dead thing. "You've been eating those garlic things with Ronon again."</p><p>"Maybe." Yes. Did it matter at all? There was tongue pressing lightly against his cock-head and he'd never felt a mouth there before. Wet and warm and just that tempting light touch.</p><p>He was not getting hard again. He really wasn't.</p><p>Except maybe a little, and wow, that hurt.</p><p>"Hmmm." John was working his way back up, lapping at the dollops of salty come on his way . "Maybe," he teased, kissing a nipple, and then rising higher.</p><p>"Yeah. Uhn, that, you, you know what you're doing..." Know, knew, definitely had done it the right way with someone. Rodney lifted his hips, pressed himself against John's stomach just for the ache of it. Pressed himself against John's <i>dick</i>. Penis. Art Deco Ice Cream Cone, and that thought made him give a distinctly unmanly chuckle.</p><p>"What do you think you're laughing at?" There was no irritation in that question, just an honest amusement accompanied by the tickling squirm of John's fingers against his ribs, never mind that John hadn't come at all.</p><p>That was all right. He'd work there in his own time, and for the moment ponder where he'd heard it called the Art Deco Ice Cream Cone. "Just, penises. And how good that felt."</p><p>"Mmmm." He could taste himself on John's mouth, and just the thought of it, that John had sucked him, that John was kissing him with that mouth, it made him whine a little in the back of his throat. "Penises. Penii?"</p><p>"Penii is probably etymologically correct." Rodney turned his head a little, for the pressure of lips dragging against his own, and he shifted, slid his arms around John. So good. He just wanted... well, he didn't know.</p><p>John's hands were on him, stroking up his sides. "I'll get up. Go to the bathroom," he offered, letting Rodney have a way out if he wanted it.</p><p>"I want to try." Why wouldn't he want to try? John was beautiful and handsome, and there was no rule anywhere about reciprocation of sucking off, but he wanted to. He wanted to see what John tasted like, if he was different, how he would feel in Rodney's mouth.</p><p>He could see that John was a little skeptical, or maybe it was worry. "Are you sure?"</p><p>"Yes. I'm as sure as I get, and if I don't try, or start to try..." Then he'd just keep on never-doing for the rest of his life.</p><p>The way John's mouth brushed his was gentle, sweet, strangely reverent. "Okay." Okay like it was just that easy, and then he was sliding off of Rodney, slipping into place by his side. "I'm all yours."</p><p>"I, I'm not sure what I can, what I can get to, but..." But he leaned over John, pressed his thigh against John's hip, and curled his left hand over John's chest. "I want to feel you."</p><p>He heard John swallow, the sound of it a hard bob, as if just his touch was that enticing. "Yeah," John said finally, voice a little tight. "Whatever you want. And I promise...."</p><p>"You're going to stop if I ask you to." Tell him to. It wasn't a question, it was a statement and he was going to leave it at that. That was John's last chance, never mind that he shouldn't have gotten a second chance in the first place. But the feeling of his skin under Rodney's hand, the way his nipple went hard when Rodney slid his thumb over it, was irresistible.</p><p>"Yeah." It was the only answer he could give, and it was crazy, but Rodney trusted him to do it. He trusted John to keep his word.</p><p>If John didn't keep his word, if he didn't, if it all went wrong, Rodney knew there was no way any amount of therapy would ever fix him. "Good." He kept his eyes on John's face, and the contrast of his hand against John's chest, and leaned on his elbow before he slid his hand down into John's sleep-pants. His touch made John jump, made him gasp in a deep breath and close his eyes.</p><p>"Jesus <i>fuck</i>," John got out, clenching his hands tightly in the sheets. "Mer..."</p><p>Mer. Meredith. Not Rodney, which probably ought to be weird to him. It wasn't, not quite. He'd work it out in his head later, because for the moment he could slide his fingers over John's dick, finding the funny rise of a ball-bearing out of nowhere, and holy fuck, John really was pierced.</p><p>"Oh, God." The weak sound of John's voice rose as Rodney explored, tugging gently at it in curiosity. "That feels..." Good, obviously, because he was pushing up into Rodney's hand.</p><p>"Amazing? What, just what do you have going through there?" Later he'd pull the sheets down and look, but for the moment there was wonder in the blind motion of touch.</p><p>"Barbell." Oh. Well, that was certainly interesting, and Rodney tugged at it again, getting that shove of hips that seemed to mean he was hitting a pretty good spot right there. Huh. "It's got... got... God, that feels really good."</p><p>"How good?" John had tried a little dirty-talk, not really dirty, but interesting, and Rodney wanted to see if John did it because he liked it himself. He slipped his thumb over the barbell again, feeling slick skin. It made John hiss, a little "ohfuck," that seemed to slip out in a wash as he bucked up again.</p><p>He swallowed hard again, audibly, and seemed to pull himself together. "Really good." The raw quality of his voice was fascinating, and it made Rodney lean down, lick at that spot. The resulting groan and the tension riding John was pretty cool.</p><p>They were going to have to do it with the light on next time, because all he could see was grainy lack of detail. The world was reduced to touch and taste and the contrast of skin and metal that warmed up more to his tongue as he circled around the piercing and leaned to lick the head of John's dick. He could do it.</p><p>He could do it and enjoy it. John was making little sounds, and his legs were shaking against Rodney so that he could feel it. If John was reacting this way now, when Rodney didn't know what he was doing... He could only imagine what John would do once he did manage to figure it out. He would. He'd watched porn, yeah, but there was watching and then there was doing, and trying to figure out how to get the whole thing in his mouth, let alone his throat? It wasn't going to happen, and John seemed to like the sucking, which was good because Rodney liked doing the sucking, the licking, liked the vague musk taste and the way John quivered.</p><p>"Yeah." It was a breathy sound mixed in with all of his slurping. "It's okay. Just. Just. Just suck on the head. You can use your hand for... you don't have to swa... Oh God." God, because Rodney had found his balls, too, and he was enjoying the feel of them, the faint weight in his hand, the way they moved gently against his fingers.</p><p>It was different than doing any of it himself, to himself. It was a whole set of reactions that he couldn't predict, with John rocking against him, and his voice suggesting things, offering options that Rodney maybe didn't want to take. He liked where his mouth was, liked where his hands were, sucking a little harder before sliding down to mouth over each side of the barbell.</p><p>The motion gained him a heady thrust of John's hips, desperate and almost too much. One hand came up and found Rodney's head, stroking with a tenderness that was the opposite of the tense lines of John's body. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, oh, God, you're so... Mer, the way you're sucking me, sucking my <i>cock</i>...."</p><p>He sounded in awe, and Rodney was only concentrating, taking in every motion John made in response to his, trying to learn and experience at the same time, until the sensation of John's fingers soothing through his hair left him off kilter to a new side of reactions, and he sucked harder.</p><p>The results were excellent -- John, cursing and shaking that much more, the hand on his head going tense with effort, the one in the sheets pulling so tight Rodney was amazed it didn't rip. He pulled deeply on the next small downward stroke, and John gave a sound like he was dying, and then Rodney's mouth was filled with the taste of semen.</p><p>Semen was a funny, musky protein taste, and it was easier to swallow than it was to let it drip out of his mouth or trying to spit it out, because that was more disgusting than any aftertaste could have been. Bleah. Bleah, okay, no, maybe next time he'd think about keeping a towel nearby or something.</p><p>John was panting at the head of the bed, fingers still stroking Rodney's head. It was haphazard, and they were trembling, but John didn't stop just because it was over.</p><p>Rodney slouched, half bent in on himself, and then scooted up so he could rest his head on John's stomach. Just a little, just until he caught his breath back and cleared his mouth a little. The taste couldn't linger that long, right?</p><p>He was so going to need to brush his teeth again.</p><p>"C'mere," John murmured, tugging at him in a lazy, boneless way. "C'mere, I wanna..." Wanted to kiss him, obviously, since he had his lips on Rodney's as soon as he got within reach, sweet and soft and hot.</p><p>He leaned up, half-laid on top of John, and kissed him back. It felt lazy, warm, stewing in his stomach even though he'd already come. Maybe... maybe they'd do it again in a little while?</p><p>A thumb stroked over his cheekbone, tender and sweet. "Thank you." As if Rodney had done something incredibly special instead of just reciprocating.</p><p>But it was a huge leap. In the morning, he was going to call Teyla and, and it probably wasn't normal to decide that he needed to crow at his therapist but he did. Rodney turned his head, let his lips linger against the stubble of John's beard. "Yeah, that was better."</p><p>"Mhm." John's hand was stroking up and down his side even as he shifted so that they were lying face to face. "Yeah. I hope it's gonna get better and better as we go along." That sounded a lot like John meant for this -- them -- to be something permanent. Not something that went away at the end of their two month sentence.</p><p>Rodney could do that. He could do that, wanted to do that under much more normal circumstances, circumstances where he didn't have to live in someone else's home, entirely away from his own. It had helped that he at least had shipped most of his apartment there, and that his cat was somewhere he'd be pampered in a grudging way. "I hope so, too." He turned a little, shifted and leaned against John's side, into their nearly usual configuration.</p><p>He sighed as John kissed him again, tender in a way that Rodney found less surprising than he should have. "Get some sleep," he murmured, fingers curling against Rodney's neck protectively. "We can decide what comes next later."</p><p>"Sleep is good. My fingers still hurt from that game." It was almost a whine, but he could press his fingers against John's chest and it felt better. When John reached down and pulled them up, kissing each fingertip one by one, that felt pretty incredible, too.</p><p>"Close your eyes." Kisses on them, too, one, two, and then his mouth, and Rodney curled into John and took a deep breath.</p><hr/><p>He couldn't remember a time when he had been happier.</p><p>Rodney knew it was a clichÈ; that he shouldn't just feel so delighted to be where he was, to be with John, to be... Well. It was just silly, except for the part where it was true.</p><p>He was already married to John, still. And as miserable and stupid as their starting circumstances had been, there was no reason for them to keep being miserable and stupid, him or John. So, things had started to get better. A lot better, a lot more comfortable, a lot more interaction, and fussing around in bed.</p><p>A lot meaning every night, actually, and just the thought made Rodney squirm a little. They ate together every night, watched TV, made out in front of it, and then crawled in bed together, curling together quietly to kiss and do... well, other things. Nice things, good things, things that made Rodney shake just thinking about them.</p><p>Sex. Fingers and mouth, things that he'd had horrible thoughts about for years, that he still did, but John was being careful. He wasn't sure what kind of act of god it'd take for him to get around to full on sex-sex, but he was getting comfortable with his body, with John's body, and it was.... It was great. The best thing ever.</p><p>Just thinking about it made him restless, made him... Well. He'd needed to get out of the house, anyway. It was as much celebration of the end of their two month obligation as anything else, so he'd gone to a deli not far from John's office and picked up lunch, turkey in the straw for John and a Philly cheese steak for himself. It helped, getting out, having something to do, having something not-work to think about, and not being cooped up in the house. They'd made it, and they just needed to get it signed off with the executor that they'd done it. Life would return to the way it had been, except there were all of these new things that he'd worry about later. First, a celebratory lunch with John.</p><p>SSO Advertising was as busy as always, people on the move, talking on cell phones, on headsets, wandering through quickly as if they all had somewhere to be and something to do fifteen minutes ago yesterday. The bustle alone was nothing at all like TaxZing, and he couldn't help the wry smile that crept over his face. He was going to miss Zelenka, but maybe they could move the business a little closer. He and John could get a place just over the border where they could both be available to their jobs every day. It wouldn't be that difficult.</p><p>It wasn't as if the border was far. Or that John wouldn't be open to the idea. </p><p>Finding John's office wasn't actually hard. He asked a few people, people recognized who he was in general, and two or three directions got him heading towards John's frosted glass-walled office with a cracked open door. He could see John through the door, leaning back in his office chair, the phone cradled between his shoulder and his head, his hands busy with the slinky that he kept on the desk.</p><p>Moving closer, he could hear John's laughter. "Yeah. He's fooling himself." There was a pause as whoever was on the other end of the line spoke. "Don't be ridiculous. He's got as much experience at this kind of thing as a six year old. Emotion is a foreign object, much less the kind that gets involved when it comes to sex."</p><p>The words made Rodney stop short, made him stop where he was, because had John just said that?</p><p>"Well, of course he's fooled. You don't think there's any way it's real, do you?" The snort of derision went deep to the pit of Rodney's belly. "It's all about gaining the company in the long run."</p><p>It was hard not to mentally mimic back to himself what John had just said, but it was there, and it was obvious. After all, he and John had gone ten years with no contact and then this happened and John's tune changed, and why not? He got to keep his company if he went through with it. That was why Rodney had initially agreed.</p><p>"No. SSO is locked up solid. No matter what else goes down, it's not in danger. Yeah. Yeah, I'll get back with you about all of that. Huh? Yeah. It's over. The last day was yesterday. Yes.. Uh-huh. Yeah, he's heading back up to Canada. Something about Radek. Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Talk to you later. I've got some advertising jingles I need to listen to, so I'm gonna slip on the headphones. Don't be surprised if I don't answer when you call back."</p><p>Over. Oh, it <i>was</i> over, and John just had no damn idea. Rodney wanted to walk in there and shove that turkey sandwich down John's throat until he choked. After all, Rodney had gone into it expecting, well, expecting something real, dammit, not another head game, because John had seemed so damned sincere.</p><p>He had seemed so.. so...</p><p>"Hey." The voice caught his attention, and Rodney turned, nearly running into Pete Sherman. All things considered, he shouldn't have been surprised to see him. "You here to look over something else?" Pete asked, giving him that smile, so much like John's that Rodney's stomach turned over unpleasantly.</p><p>He hadn't been, no. Now he wanted to go in there and punch John's lights out, but a little interference stopped him short. "Uh, no."</p><p>"Yeah, I thought it might be worth asking. Mostly because you look like you're planning to rip somebody a new one, and I have this thing where I'm wanting to be sure it's not me for letting your account slip up the chain of command. Of course, ah..." The flicker of those lashes made goose bumps rise on Rodney's skin. They weren't exactly good ones, and okay, obviously anybody flirting with him still freaked him right out. "Rumor has it you're actually married to the guy in that office over there."</p><p>"Rumor has it right." Not for much longer, oh, but if he could take a chunk of John's reputation out when he left, fantastic. It was the only kinds of chunks he could take out of him legally.</p><p>The way he said it must have gotten the point across because Sherman rocked back on his heels, brows raised. "Really. Well, then. Why don't you let me take you out to lunch?"</p><p>Half of him wanted to say yes, just to piss John off, because the other half of him was busy wanting to storm into the office to beat John's head in with a bag of still-warm deli sandwiches. "I'll take a rain check on that." He held up the bag halfway as a shield, and peered towards the frosted glass again.</p><p>"C'mon, Rodney. I'll make it worth your while. Steak, maybe?" God, that was ridiculously charming of him.</p><p>"Some time after I'm done killing your boss." He just wasn't that good a manipulator, didn't know how to play the games people played with each other because, hey, he apparently had all the emotional experience of a six-year old. What other reason did he have for sleeping with his rapist? Hell, not just sleeping with him, but seeking <i>comfort</i>, and then he was surprised and heartbroken and feeling anger settle into his chest because his first gut instinct had been right all along.</p><p>"Hey, you know, they don't have cable in prison. They don't let you have laptops or internet access, either, so murder? Probably not the best idea." Pete's eyes were a little wild. "Lunch would be much better. You can leave that here and we'll go out."</p><p>Rodney leaned close to the frosted window, and pressed his free hand against it. "Is there any particular reason why you materialized out of thin air, and you're now offering to take me out to lunch?" He didn't trust Pete Sherman, no, he didn't. Not anymore. He didn't trust John Sheppard, either, and they were peas in a pod, or at least they looked enough alike to pass for some kind of pod <i>people</i>.</p><p>Sherman just shrugged though. "No reason in particular, Mr. Sheppard." His smile was just a tad oily, but it always had been. He worked in advertising, after all. "You were just here, and you didn't look happy, and you were always a good customer back when we were Sherman and O'Malley."</p><p>It seemed logical, but Rodney decided it was better not to trust anything. "All right. The answer's still no, but I appreciate the offer." It was easier to push open the door to John's office. John was in there, facing the windows, a pair of headphones on, obviously busy.</p><p>Rodney didn't give a damn how busy he was.</p><p>He'd heard the conversation, the light tones, the sneer on John's voice, which wasn't at all how he'd talked to Rodney over breakfast, but he knew Rodney was there and <i>listening</i> over breakfast. Rodney dropped the sandwiches on the desk top, waiting to see if John turned around or startled at all.</p><p>The sight of it must have caught his eye, because he turned around, all brilliant smile. John reached up and tugged off the headphones, and the way he lit up made Rodney even angrier. "Hey! I was just thinking about...."</p><p>"About what? The next creative lie you could tell me? I came up here with lunch, and heard you on the phone. You lousy, moronic bastard -- I might have the experience with this stuff of a six year old, but I'll be damned if I'm going to let you keep playing games with me!"</p><p>"What the hell?" John -- <i>Sheppard</i> -- he looked at him as if Rodney had lost his mind, and that just made him even angrier. "Rodney, you heard all of that? And you thought it was about you?"</p><p>"Right down to the <i>'yeah, it's over'</i>. I'll show you 'over', you, you goddamned sociopath. I shouldn't have run away ten years ago -- I should have just hauled off and beaten your, your booze addled brains in!" His voice went a little higher than he would have liked when he was shouting at John. The fact that both of his hands were waving and the whole thing just seemed to be turning John on made him even angrier. He knew that expression!</p><p>"Yeah, it's over, the two months are over. Ronon's got all of the papers to sign. That's who I was talking to." Oh, God, he should have expected that betrayal! Ronon was John's friend, after all, not his. "He was telling me that Mara's putting the moves on Kolya. Her dad owns another shipping company. Turns out that he figured I'd get Pegasus when Dad died and he figures it's easier to get it in a divorce settlement."</p><p>Which, which actually didn't make any sense at all, but Rodney's brain tripped back to the first part. "What papers? Because if I've just spent the past month with you and you're going to, going to just..."</p><p>"The papers to file with Barbara's lawyer so that we get everything back plus the money dad left to each of us." John's jaw was set, grim, as he stood from his chair. "Jesus, Rodney! We just spent the last week sleeping beside each other, taking every free minute to....!" He ruffled his hand through his hair, a motion that Rodney had seen regularly whenever John was working on something and got frustrated. "You honestly thought I was talking about <i>you</i>? Don't you get it, you idiot?"</p><p>"No, apparently I don't!" And, okay, so he'd heard John wrong? Or John was creatively lying to him because he'd been caught out.</p><p>He was almost scared when John came storming around his desk. Almost, because he wasn't that guy anymore. He wasn't Meredith, who would have gone running back to Canada and hidden in the face of John's words.</p><p>John reached out and grabbed his upper arms, tugging him against him even as he ground out the words. "I love you, Meredith. <i>Rodney</i>. Jesus, you can be stupid for a genius," he finished, and then leaned down and kissed him.</p><p>It hadn't been what Rodney had been expecting. It wasn't, but what he'd been waiting for John to do was betray him again, not kiss him, not try to calm Rodney down in a way that John logically had to know might backfire. But John, he loved Rodney? That was a pretty big leap from willing to make out with him, but his mouth felt so good, so comfortable. It felt <i>right</i> in a way that Rodney hadn't known anything could, and he moaned underneath the onslaught, his hands wavering, uncertain, until John reached out and caught one to hold him close.</p><p>He pulled away, leaving Rodney startled and breathless. "You don't have to love me back. I know we've made a mess of everything from beginning to end. Just... I would never talk about you like that, Rodney. Not ever. And I want you to know it."</p><p>John still had hold of Rodney, though, still held of one of his hands. Pulled away didn't feel all that far, and Rodney wavered, leaning towards John. "I, if I didn't care, if I didn't -- I wouldn't care what you said. I thought you meant <i>me</i> when you were on the phone..." All of that anger had come up because he did care.</p><p>Sometimes, he felt a little -- or maybe even a lot -- stupid.</p><p>"I would never. Not you." John leaned forward, pressed his forehead against Rodney's. "Sometimes you're a little goofy, but as far as emotion goes, you're a hell of a lot more advanced than Acastus Kolya. I wouldn't... If I was going to say something like that, I'd say it to your face, Rodney."</p><p>There was no way to know for sure. There was no way to know for sure, yeah, but Rodney was glad that he'd come into the office, because John's forehead against his own was grounding, calming. It was one of the stupid things John did in foreplay, and Rodney liked the feeling of it. Teyla had said it was because it was a non-sexualized touch that, well, there was some mumbo jumbo in there and Rodney was secretly starting to believe she was a Freudian. "I feel like an ass, now."</p><p>John grinned a little in a way that caught the edge of Rodney's eye. "Yeah, well. You're a pretty hot ass, all things considered. Now. What are you doing down here, anyway, aside from throwing a fit? That was pretty hot, by the way. I like the whole standing up for yourself thing."</p><p>It was hard not to laugh, and he bumped his forehead against John's. "I brought you lunch. I'd planned on it being a celebratory type of thing, but now it might have to double as a peace offering."</p><p>"Hmmmm." John's thumbs stroked up his arms. "Well. I guess I could maybe accept that in lieu of better prizes. Say, you know... chocolate or champagne or..." He grinned. "I vote for a bigger celebration tonight. If that's okay with you."</p><p>"What kind of bigger celebration?" He was open to the idea, because John's concept of a bigger celebration wasn't a huge party. It was usually just a more extravagant indoor night than Rodney would've planned himself.</p><p>"Oh, I dunno. We could grill on the patio, have a couple of beers, watch a movie where stuff blows up." John lapped out, moistening his lower lip. "Maybe go to bed early."</p><p>There was nothing hanging over their heads to keep them there, which could've been why Rodney's nerves were through the roof about it. He exhaled against John's mouth, leaned in to kiss him instead of just being toyed with. "I could do that. You, me, burnt meat and a bad action movie. But how about lunch first?"</p><p>John's lips lingered, tugging gently at Rodney's for just a moment. "I think that sounds like the best idea I've heard so far today. C'mon. We'll go down to the break room."</p><p>"You have a break room?" And John actually mingled with his workers? That was a little surprising, but he hadn't come to see John working yet. There just didn't seem to be the rapport he had with Peter and Radek.</p><p>His husband -- ha! -- rolled his eyes. "Of course we've got a break room. If we didn't, I'd probably get massacred. Sherman alone is plotting to overthrow me and feed me to the dogs. C'mon. I'll show you." He paused and grinned. "There's coffee."</p><p>It was hard not to feel sheepish as he reached for the bag of sandwiches, but John was all easy, flip grins, and it went a long way to calm Rodney back down. "Maybe Sherman should lay off the coffee. How free-flowing is the caffeine down there?"</p><p>"There's a fountain." John said it with a straight face, but he obviously didn't mean it. "Rodney..." He paused and seemed to gather his thoughts. "You're not the guy I married ten years ago. I'm not the idiot who messed things up, either."</p><p>"No." Rodney shifted his fingers, felt the paper of the bag crinkle in his hand. "No, I know. I've been getting around to that realization."</p><p>John nodded. "Okay." Okay, and maybe it would be. Maybe everything would be all right, and John wouldn't hold that assumption against him, and... "Hey. Stop thinking so much and kiss me."</p><p>"I do the over-thinking a lot. If you're going to keep living with me, you'll have to get used to it." And cold sandwiches, apparently. Rodney leaned in, pressed his mouth against John's again. At least the big window was frosted.</p><p>Even if it wasn't, he didn't think either of them cared.</p><p>"I think I can live with that," John murmured, and kissed him again.</p><p>Yeah. Maybe both of them could.</p><hr/><p>It was a tango of precise, perfectly timed phone calls that got them there. There was the call to Ronon before they went to sign the papers, and then a call to Caldwell when Rodney went into the bathroom to see if he could get him to get to the house ahead of time to set the place up, If he'd thought Rodney wouldn't have freaked out, he would've tried going the strawberries and champagne route. As it was, clean sheets and drawn curtains over the windows with mood lighting would have to do.</p><p>He had even managed to keep Rodney out of the house until dusk, which was damn near a miracle. It was pretty miraculous the house hadn't burned down in the ten minute interval between Caldwell's grumpy voicemail and them getting back to the house, too.</p><p>Every second of it had been worth it for the look on Rodney's face.</p><p>It was one of those moments where Rodney's face opened up, lit up in quiet delight. The surprise and keeping it a secret from Rodney was all worth that moment, that look, and then the way Rodney had turned towards him, expression caught up in awe and wonder before John leaned in to peck a kiss onto his mouth.</p><p>It was short, sweet, felt ridiculous, and he loved doing it.</p><p>"I thought, maybe..." John hesitated. "Well. You know. We were planning to celebrate and I just figured... Now might be the time."</p><p>If he'd figured wrong, he was pretty sure that he'd just set them back by weeks, but all the signals were there from Rodney. He could hear Rodney inhale a little too sharply, but then Rodney was nodding. "Yeah. We could -- I want to try. Don't think it's going to fix anything, because it's not, but..."</p><p>"Hey." John reached out, turned Rodney's face towards him with fingers on his chin. "I don't think I'm fixing anything, not right off. I think maybe it's time to start trying, though."</p><p>"I think I'm going to freak out about freaking out, which might be a mental redundancy." Rodney murmured it, but leaned in towards John, making the first move to start a kiss.</p><p>John let him; he let him take control, let him be the one to lead them in the right direction. Rodney's mouth was soft, and slow, and sweet, and John couldn't remember the last time he'd been kissed with such obvious care, if anyone else had ever kissed him that way. Probably not, he figured, and let his hand slip back to cup the back of Rodney's neck.</p><p>It felt good. John was used to hot and hard and overpowering when it came to kisses, and Rodney didn't do that. He tasted, savored, hesitated and then pressed forwards and hesitated all over again. He leaned into John's hand just slightly, and one of Rodney's own hands dropped to John's belt.</p><p>That alone was enough to make John shift, make him feel the need to push. He didn't, didn't even try it, but he wanted to, just a little. Instead, he let his free hand move to curve around Rodney's bicep, the pads of his fingers resting against the back of that arm, enjoying the feel of it. "God, I love you." He did. He might as well say it, confess it again the way he had earlier in the day.</p><p>Rodney sighed against his mouth. "I keep wondering if you mean that or if you say it because it's what I want to hear, and..."</p><p>"No." No, just outright, no. "I wouldn't say it just to make you happy, Rodney." Rodney, because he wasn't Mer or Meredith anymore and he wouldn't ever be again. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it."</p><p>"I know. You gain... not much. Nothing you haven't already had." Rodney's mouth twisted a little, and he pressed his lips against John's again. "I love you. I love you, and if you screw me over again, I..."</p><p>"You can do whatever you want if I do. I'll deserve it." Deserve it, and yeah, there was that kiss, wild and hot and just the way John had always liked to have his kissing. God.</p><p>He almost didn't expect Rodney to finally move them, to finally take the step forwards that pushed John backwards started them towards the bed. He didn't expect it, but Rodney did, and oh, Christ, John was going to let him do whatever he was comfortable with doing, and maybe he was babbling it. Maybe he was mumbling about it, his mouth pressed to Rodney's, telling him anything and everything and then some.</p><p>"I want to, I want to." And then Rodney was mumbling again, kissing him harder, and moving, pushing just lightly until John was flat out on the bed.</p><p>"Anything," John promised him, and this was so much better than talking about feelings. If they could avoid talking about feelings for, oh, <i>ever</i>, he'd appreciate that a lot. Right at the moment, he appreciated Rodney's hands on his ass and the fact that he was grabbing Rodney's, hands full of fantastic bubble butt.</p><p>He liked the feel of Rodney on top of him, pushing him up further onto the bed. There probably would be that horrifying feelings talk with Teyla on speaker phone eventually. But not yet, and hopefully never in person with that scary woman, and how wrong was it that he was even thinking about that when Rodney started to push at his shirt.</p><p>"Let me." Let him help, let him pull at his own shirt and Rodney's, and they were tangled, but it was so good. John couldn't remember the last time anything had felt so amazing, and he wasn't sure that anything would ever feel better. Then Rodney put his mouth on the pulse throbbing in John's throat and he gave a strangled sound because yes. Yes, it actually would just get better.</p><p>Rodney liked to explore, test things, liked to feel John's body and test and taste. It wasn't graceful, but he managed to get Rodney's shirt unbuttoned, and Rodney started to try to struggle out of it while mouthing that pulse point.</p><p>"Oh, God, yeah." Yeah, and John scrabbled, kicking off his shoes. They thunked to the floor in loud thuds, but he managed to push them further up in the bed, getting one leg around Rodney's so that he could apply leverage. Once their cocks were lined up, everything was pretty damn good.</p><p>Everything was great, even if he was losing friction and missing the slide of pressure against Rodney. "Yeah, I want this, I want this..." He wanted everything, pulling at John's belt buckle already. At least shoes were already gone.</p><p>"Slow down." Just thinking about it made John shake because he didn't want to go slow, didn't want to draw it out. He had to, though. That was what Rodney needed, not this rushed, wild experience, heady with lust and weighty with emotion. "You can have it."</p><p>He had to get his hands on Rodney's hips, clutching a little harder than he wanted to, but Rodney slowed, stopped, pressed his hands against John's chest and seemed to catch his breath. "Slow, right, slowing..."</p><p>Yeah. Yeah, like that, and John let his arm wrap around Rodney's waist, holding him snugly against his own body. "Yeah," he murmured, nuzzling a kiss against Rodney's mouth. "Yeah. Just like that. Slow..." Slow and hot and <i>good</i>, Rodney squirming and rocking against him just a little.</p><p>"Slow is, oh god, so good." Rodney slouched, and the tension, the excitement, started to slip away. That was better. The calmer Rodney was, the less likely he was to freak out. "Mmm."</p><p>Yeah, that was a good sound. Rodney's voice made him hard, made him want to rock up, made him want to... "Talk to me, Rodney." Talk to him. Tell him all the things he wanted to hear, tell John what he wanted him to do.</p><p>"Talk to you." Rodney echoed him, and pressed his hips down slowly against John's. "Talk to you about what?"</p><p>"Tell me what you want. Tell me how to touch you. Tell me..." Tell him <i>everything</i>.</p><p>"I just do. I want you, I want to, oh, fuck, touch me..." It was his hands low on Rodney's back that got that response.</p><p>"Touch you here?" John slid his hand under Rodney's t-shirt, letting his fingers trace up Rodney's spine and then back down again. "Or maybe... here?" He cupped the swell of Rodney's ass, round and gorgeous and great to watch. Better to touch.</p><p>"There, I like there, better, yeah, your hands are great, I never thought of your hands as anything that could feel this good." He pressed his face in close against John's shoulder.</p><p>"I promise." He cupped, shifted, fumbled at Rodney's waistband until he managed to get his hands around to the front, working at the button. "I promise it will feel fantastic."</p><p>"I know, I know." Rodney shifted, tried to lift his hips up as if that was going to give John more clearance. But he liked the press of Rodney's knees on either side of John's own thighs. He liked the way Rodney covered him, broad-shouldered and warm, and he could imagine liking it even more in another ten years.</p><p>He should probably suggest that they get up, undress so that things would go easier, but he didn't want to take the time, didn't want to pull himself apart from Rodney long enough to make that kind of effort. "Let me..." Push, tug, get those jeans off of him.</p><p>It was probably slower that way, no, definitely slower that way, but he got to keep Rodney over top of him, got to keep Rodney squirming against him and then shifting, one knee and then the other to get out of the jeans.</p><p>"Talk to me," he murmured again, pushing himself up carefully, close enough to give a sucking kiss to Rodney's throat. "Tell me."</p><p>"I think I want to try this fucking thing again. You and me, naked and you need to get your pants off or it's not fair at all..." Rodney shifted, and had to be rubbing against John's pants. Yeah, he should get those off, or the stain would never come out.</p><p>Jesus fucking... Just hearing Rodney say that, say it <i>like</i> that, made John pant desperately for control. "Yeah, just... let's get them off because I want to make you feel so good. I want..." Wanted to make up for everything, wanted Rodney to know how good, how perfect, things could be.</p><p>"You want what? What do you want, I want to, want to, oh, god, I'm too worked up to concentrate." There was a nervous bark of a laugh in there, and Rodney leaned up onto his elbows as if that helped much.</p><p>"You're pretty amazing like that." He was, too, all wild-eyed, pupil dark, his mouth swollen and carmine with the force of their kisses. If he had been a woman, John would have pushed him over onto his back and slid between his legs until he came at least twice and then fucked him like a wild man. As it was, he worked at shimmying off his own pants instead.</p><p>Worked at it and waited for Rodney to finally look down, eyes going wide in shock for a moment when he finally saw the gleam of John's piercing. It was comical, it was great, just to see Rodney grin like that.</p><p>"It'll feel good," John promised, because he knew it would. He'd always been told it did, anyway, and so it was a pretty good bet. "If you want. I'll lick you from your throat down to your knees, I'll do things with my tongue you never thought anybody would do to you, and when it's time? When it's time, you'll be so ready I'll slide right in, and you'll love every minute of it. I swear."</p><p>He sighed, shifted, rubbed his dick down hard against John's cock, the heads bumping. "I want, I want you to slide right in, I want it to feel good, John, fuck."</p><p>"Then we need to get naked." That meant getting up, pushing off the last few pieces of clothing, but John could deal with that. He could more than deal with that, because <i>Rodney</i>. <i>Naked</i>. Just the thought was enough to make him go off if he thought about it too much.</p><p>He just needed to slide his pants and underwear the rest of the way off, but Rodney was staring at his cock, kneeling up and back and god, maybe he was so focused on reaching for John's dick that he wasn't taking the time to be self-conscious about the fact that he was naked himself. That was a good thing, the best thing, and by the time they managed to kick the rest of their clothing to the floor, he hoped Rodney hadn't gotten nervous.</p><p>"Here." He offered his hand to Rodney, gently tugging him up to the top of the bed. Once upon a time, they had been young and furious, angry at the things they were being forced into. Now they were older, they'd had a chance to know one another, and there was no turning back from the fact that things were different. No denying that they were in love, that they were something more than anything their fathers had ever intended. Well. Rodney's dad, anyway. "Come here."</p><p>"I think 'here' is where I want to be." He caught John's hand, just for the moment, and knelt on the mattress, kneeing his way pretty ungracefully towards John on the big big bed they were sharing.</p><p>"I think 'here' is the best place for both of us," John murmured, and then pulled Rodney forward and down, kissing him all the while.</p><p>They were naked, now, in more ways than one, and the rub of Rodney's cock against John's own made his breath hitch. God. They were so close. He had never thought they would be so close, and the way John kissed him, slow and steady, was a way to ground himself, to try and keep control.</p><p>It wasn't as if he wanted to just flip Rodney over and fuck him, even if he did, but he knew he had to be more careful this time, more careful and patient with Rodney in general, and it was all worth it. There was no hardship in kissing Rodney over and over, slow motions that made Rodney groan, that made Rodney's hands roam loosely. It felt good, all of it, and Rodney didn't stiffen when John pushed him onto his back, didn't lock up when John draped himself over the top of him, gently rubbing their cocks together in a slow, leisurely pace.</p><p>"Can I?" he asked, kissing Rodney again, sweet and slow. "Can I?"</p><p>"Yeah." Rodney swallowed, and he leaned back a little, peering down at John. Rodney's face was flushed red, all the way back to his ears, and it made John smirk a little. "Yeah. I want you to."</p><p>Just hearing it was a turn on, so John let out the moan that he couldn't hold back and nuzzled his way down to Rodney's throat, kissing and nipping, letting his hands go wherever he wanted. He could feel Rodney, all broad shoulders and chest, could find those nipples with his thumbs and gently rub them. Just feeling the perk against his fingertips made him shudder and move down so that he could take one in his mouth.</p><p>They'd done that before, and he knew how Rodney liked to be touched. He knew that Rodney preferred pressure to biting and vague suction and wet to both of those, and rubbing. Anything that didn't hurt, didn't make Rodney twinge, was all good, and Rodney's sighs reinforced that. He was all lapping tongue and gentle sucking, hands wandering down the vague softness of Rodney's belly, and that was good. That was better than abs that had been toned with a lot of desperate gym work because it made John want to slide down, and he did, following a path to Rodney's navel, tongue darting inside for just a minute. It got him a laughed gasp for air, the shudder when Rodney's muscles clenched in startled reaction before his hands moved to cling more tightly to John's shoulders. "I love your mouth."</p><p>"Give me six months and I can probably convince you that you can't live without it," John murmured, moving lower. He followed the trail of crisp hair nuzzling into the patch just above Rodney's dick and breathing in before he nipped ever so gently at the top of his thigh.</p><p>"Pretty sure, fuck, I'm pretty sure I'm already convinced. Con, con, oh, fuck, if you want me to keep talking I'm not going to have anything sensible to say because you're avoiding the point, my point..." And kissing right against Rodney's ticklish spot. There was something incredibly good about hearing Rodney laugh then and there, little chortling sounds that might have been insulting if it had been anyone else.</p><p>"Mmm, yeah, I am, aren't I?" Avoiding it entirely, because hey. There were other spots, good spots, and John wanted Rodney to know it.</p><p>Sex wasn't all about the dick and ass, even if it was mostly about it. Rodney shifted, squirmed, and there was another startled, huffed laugh. "Stop, stop, or I'll leak on you...."</p><p>"There's just you and me here," John grinned, and then blew a raspberry against his hip. "Just you, and me, and I'm pretty sure I feel safe about you getting a little bit of this on me." He reached up and rubbed his thumb across the damp tip of Rodney's cock, gathering the droplets of precum there and smearing them over the head.</p><p>"I don't think you wanted it in your hair." Rodney shifted, pressed his hips up against John's fingers while he made that smearing gesture.</p><p>"I can always wash it," he murmured, and then leaned down to press a kiss just so. He could feel the jerk of Rodney's body, almost hear the way he drew in a deep breath. "Right now? All about making you feel good."</p><p>"I feel good, oh, god you feel good." So good that Rodney was squirming again, shifting his hips just a little, legs spread wide for John's ease of access if he wanted it.</p><p>Oh, God, he wanted. Slow was the way to go, through, deliberate and careful. When he placed his thumb gently behind Rodney's balls, John felt him tense. He didn't move any further down, through, just caressed him there, stroking as he continued kissing Rodney in all the places he could reach.</p><p>"I'm not going to hurt you," he promised, because he felt the need to say it.</p><p>Still tense, but Rodney nodded, pressed fingers against the back of John's shoulder in a press that felt like permission. "Yeah. You're not. I just, I need to get used to it."</p><p>"I know." He did, but saying it still felt better. It made <i>him</i> feel better, and he hoped it made Rodney feel better, too, even as he leaned down and licked the crease of a thigh.</p><p>He wasn't good with guy sex, not beyond what he'd learned with Rodney. He'd had anal sex with women before, but things were different when there was a cock involved outside of his own. John mostly went with things that he knew worked for everybody, and what he specifically knew worked for Rodney, touching and kissing with more care than he ever remembered showing before.</p><p>He just worked that finger against Rodney's hole, tracing it, a little damp from sweat, laying distracting kisses against Rodney's skin. He probably should get the lube, start working in that direction. The trouble lay in the worrisome fact that Rodney might get nervous when he got up, and they would have to start over again.</p><p>"Here."</p><p>John looked up, eyes widening. Apparently there had been more than just clean sheets and candles put in place, because Rodney had a tiny tube in white and pink that declared itself <i>RisquÈ Adventure</i>. He wasn't sure he ever wanted to ask about that, actually. He was just going to be grateful for it.</p><p>"It was under the pillow." Rodney blurted that in such a shocked tone of voice, as if he didn't want to be accused of hoarding lube for just the right moment.</p><p>There was no way John could keep from laughing just a little. "I guess Caldwell figured that, uh, things might head in that direction. Considering the other stuff I asked for." He'd bet money that Steven's wife was the kind of woman who was no holds barred in bed, too, so he probably knew where to get it. The stiff kind were like that sometimes. He just didn't want to know which one of them was using it, because that was a mental image that ended up burned in a guy's mind.</p><p>"Maybe. I'm glad it's there." Because <i>maybe</i> Rodney had fooled around with himself, but if he had, he wasn't talking about it with John.</p><p>He had to admit he might like to see that sometime, but that would have to come later. A lot later, probably. "I promise," he murmured, and then kissed Rodney's hip as he flipped the top open with a little pop and squeezed the tube so that plenty of lube coated his fingers.</p><p>It smelled like plastic strawberries, and John had a left field paranoid moment where he wanted to check the ingredients to make sure there wasn't citrus anything in it, but it was <i>strawberries</i>. Then again, if Rodney's asshole started to swell up, he'd never forgive John.</p><p>There was a tiny list on the back, and it all looked pretty much like chemicals to John. Benzocaine was on the list, and that could only be to the good, he figured. "Ready?"</p><p>"Yeah. Yeah, and if you keep asking if I'm ready...." Rodney was smiling, lopsidedly, and he shifted one leg. "C'mon, this is as ready as I think I can get."</p><p>"I just want to be sure," John pouted, sneaking his fingers forward again. "I mean, what if you change your mind? Your legs are kind of close to some of my favorite parts down there."</p><p>"If I change my mind somehow, I'll let you know verbally." At least John had Rodney laughing, even as John finally got two slicked fingers between Rodney's ass cheeks.</p><p>"Verbally is good for me." Yeah. More than good, because John liked to hear Rodney talk. He liked to hear what he wanted, liked to imagine what things would become when Rodney was ready to let loose with him, what he might say, what he might do. It was something to think about even as he brought one of those fingers to rub gently at the tight, wrinkled flesh holding him out. "Talk to me, Rodney," he encouraged, and laid his head on Rodney's hip, closing his eyes.</p><p>He could feel Rodney exhale, and John just pressed a little, tiny pulses of motion working his way up to it. "It's always easier to just be verbal than it is to be told to be verbal. I, god, put them in, John. Just do it."</p><p>The words made his breath catch, hitch, and John almost had to stop, had to reach down and get a tight grasp on his own cock to keep from going off. "Oh, God. If you say stuff like that..." Yeah. Maybe asking Rodney to talk was a bad idea, so instead, he pushed just a little with the first finger, feeling it slip slowly, slickly, into Rodney's ass.</p><p>He heard Rodney sigh again, heard his breath hitch and catch when Rodney's asshole twitched around his second knuckle. "Oh, god."</p><p>"Oh god good or oh god bad?" John gently twisted, not pressing any deeper, but not pulling it loose, either.</p><p>"Good, good, that's good, I think I can get used to that..." Rodney hitched his hips a little, bumping his ass up against John's one finger and getting a little more of that finger in.</p><p>"Okay." Okay, that was good, that was incredible, so John moved. He pressed that first finger in to the hilt, gently probing. If he got it right, if he remembered it right...</p><p>It seemed like he did, because Rodney made a noise, a noise that crossed a gasp and the sound Rodney usually made before he came, and his dick bobbed a little. "What, fuck, fuck, fuck, do it again, do it again!"</p><p>"Do this again?" John repeated that motion, and this time he did sneak a hand down to take hold of his own cock. It was that or come, especially when Rodney whined and <i>writhed</i> on that finger, heels digging into the mattress. "Oh, yeah."</p><p>"That, that, that shouldn't be medically POSSIBLE. Fuck, fuck..." Rodney whined, low in the back of his throat and higher near his nose, and pushed again, wanting more.</p><p>"Are you gonna cum?" Just saying it sounded good, sounded impossibly dirty, and John wanted to see it. If Rodney did, he'd go loose and boneless, and maybe, maybe things would get easier on Rodney's end. Maybe not so much on John's.</p><p>He kept stroking anyway.</p><p>"Yeah, fuck, yeah, I'm going to." Rodney rocked against his motions, humping against John's hands until his dick was bobbing up and down a little desperately, and it was the hottest thing John had ever seen. Rodney struggling to get there, no touch at all to his dick. Just John's finger in his ass, one and then slowly, gently, a second one as he leaned forward and closed his lips around the tip of Rodney's cock.</p><p>He'd expected to get a little more than the second fingertip in Rodney's ass before Rodney blew, but expectations didn't always meet reality, and John was almost a little startled by the mouthful of cum he had and the way Rodney was whining, begging, pressing the heels of his palms down hard against John's shoulders. He was babbling, words like <i>please</i> and <i>God</i> and <i>oh fuck</i>, and it was all John could do to swallow, to keep from going off himself.</p><p>Instead, he slipped his second finger in slow and deep, working with the throb of orgasm and getting into Rodney a little more. He could hear him sobbing, shaking, saying it was too much, and John didn't want to stop. God, he didn't want to stop, but he managed to somehow, managed to leave his fingers in and still and wait.</p><p>"Please, please..." It was a different kind of begging, the kind that made him lean up to kiss at Rodney's hips, swallowing away the taste of come. "John..."</p><p>"There we go. It's okay." John kissed him again, shifting to press his nose just beneath Rodney's navel. "It's okay. It's okay. I love you." The words were bizarre, tripping off of his tongue. He hadn't said it to anyone else, only Rodney, and it still felt strange.</p><p>He sighed, mumbled something to himself, and shifted one knee. Rodney closed his eyes, fingers dragging through John's hair. "Oh, god. I was going to come with nothing but your fingers, you..."</p><p>"Wanted to taste." he nuzzled gently. "Let me know when I can move them. If you want...." Fuck, John hoped he wanted.</p><p>Rodney shifted, stretching one leg until he bumped his knee against John's body. "I want. Just, give me a little, a breath, god."</p><p>"Do you want me to take them out?"</p><p>There was enough of a pause that John was ready to do it, but then Rodney murmured. "No. No. The kissing, you there, helps." He didn't know what Rodney was thinking, but his body wasn't tense like it had been.</p><p>"I love to watch you come loose." Loved to watch him do almost anything, if he was honest about it. There was a certain beauty to Rodney, not an overt one, but something about him that lay in motion, in how he moved. Sex was just one more way for John to fall in love with him.</p><p>"I think I'm coming all loose at the edges," Rodney laughed quietly, fingers shaking a little when he petted at John's hair. "I, I'm glad that we did this."</p><p>"Mmm. Mhm." John kissed his belly again, nuzzling into it gently. He couldn't help the way he rocked against Rodney's calf, pushing just a little, the wiry scrape of hair against his cock head making him shudder. His fingers shifted, pushed a little. Rodney was looser, a little, and very slick. Lube, sweat, <i>flavored</i>, and he wasn't going to shock Rodney with anything like that yet but later, yeah. When Rodney had gotten used to the idea of sex and things near his ass, he'd damn well see what Rodney would think about it.</p><p>For the moment, two slow moving fingers was the way to go, and the way Rodney shifted underneath him, the way his ass twitched, told John he was doing all right. "God, when I do this to you I'll be lucky to make it half as fantastic as this."</p><p>John hummed a little more. "I think the fact that it's you is what makes it the most fantastic of all." It did, too. John had done this before in other configurations. He'd never had it feel so fantastic, though. He'd never wanted it so badly. Wanted to do it right, to make it good so he could set the kind of precedent that could carry on for ten years, fifteen, more, in a way completely different than the previous ten.</p><p>"Because I'm fantastic."</p><p>There was no way to stop the huff of laughter, or the movement of his fingers. "Yeah. That's you." Mr. Fantastic. John shivered a little. "Can I? Rodney?"</p><p>"Yeah. And I want to watch you. See you, when you -- I want you." He lifted his hips again, and it made it easier for John to press his mouth against Rodney's belly.</p><p>He gently slid his fingers out and then pushed them in again, a steady, slow rhythm , and when the tip of the third slid in, he felt Rodney tighten just a little. He felt it, but then Rodney breathed out in a long slow sigh, and it fit. It fit, and he would fit, and John closed his eyes for a moment to try and gather himself. "Fuck, yes."</p><p>"Hnnn, yes and fuck me. I want you to, just..." Just go slow, be careful, yes, there was no way John was going to ignore that. He'd have to let Rodney shoot him if he tried it, and John wasn't exactly suicidal.</p><p>"I'll be easy." So easy, and all three of his fingers were in, gliding easily through heat and tightness and slick. "God, Rodney, you feel so good." So good, and he was getting hard again, about halfway.</p><p>It had to hurt, because John knew how that felt, like wanting more and getting it and wishing he hadn't but still wanting more. "Oh, oh, oh, fuck."</p><p>"Tell me when. Tell me when you're ready." John groaned, shifting upward a little, slowly, slowly, lapping at Rodney's nipple on the way. "Please. Please, Rodney... Please."</p><p>Please please, and he shouldn't have begged. There was some snippet of conversation he'd had with scary Teyla, but he also knew that he'd begged Rodney to do other things and Rodney had told him where to shove it. "Ready, I'm ready, fuck, your fingers..."</p><p>"Gonna..." Move, gonna <i>move</i>, come up over him, take his fingers out and coat his cock with everything in that crazy strawberry tube because he wanted it to be good, and good meant slick, meant right, and then he was slipping between Rodney's cheeks and pausing, panting, trying to get himself under control. "I'll stop. I'll stop if you want, I'll do whatever you want, just... just tell me. Just tell me."</p><p>"Don't stop, do it, do it, I want it to feel good..." His legs were splayed, open for John's hips and his body, open for John to slip in, be part of him, do all the things he should have done right ten years ago.</p><p>"Look at me." Look at him, and when Rodney's eyes were open, when they were looking into his, John gave a slow, steady push, the head of his cock pushing just past the muscle and inside.</p><p>Rodney tensed again, but it didn't last, didn't stick and take the way John was afraid it might, because Rodney shifted, rocked against John. "Hnn, hnn, fuck, that feels big."</p><p>"Sorry." It was a little squeaky, but John couldn't help it. He was panting, desperate to keep control of himself and the situation. He figured he was probably lucky that he didn't sound like a muppet, all things considered. "Oh, fuck, you're so tight. Oh fuck. Oh, fuck, Rodney!"</p><p>Just a little motion, a slow shift to press in, because Rodney was pressing up against him already. He could do that, they could do that, because Rodney was eager and fisting one hand in the mattress, the other reaching to clutch onto John.</p><p>"Tell me!" His back was knotted up from holding off so long, the tension coiling in his hips too much. He slid in deeper, deeper, as slow and easy as he could, babbling apologies all the way. "Fuck. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Please, Rodney. <i>Please</i>."</p><p>"Fuck me, John, fuck me, please, Jesus, move, move." Rodney sounded almost demanding and he was apologizing.</p><p><i>Move</i>, just what he wanted to hear, and John didn't, couldn't, stop. He pulled back with a faint squish and then pushed deep again, trying not to slam inside. Baseball, combustion engines, none of it was going to work for long. "Fuck! Jesus, Rodney, fuck, I can't...."</p><p>And he needed to, really needed to hold it together because if Rodney <i>did</i>, did have a problem, he needed to be together and aware, but Rodney was moving against him, demanding again, trying to get traction against John.</p><p>"Oh, God, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me...."</p><p>A man could only be expected to manage so much, and John couldn't hold back anymore. He pulled back and shoved in as deep as he could get, reaching for Rodney's legs. One, he tucked around his waist, and the other he raised, pushing until he managed to get it over his shoulder. There was a little bit of fumbling, but he didn't fall out, and then he was in even deeper. Rodney was yelling, but it was good. It was all good, so good, "FUCK!"</p><p>Fuck, and none of the yelling was stop or no or anything but Rodney's voice breaking at the edges in a chant of, "Yes yes yes yes," with fuck, and deep breaths mixed in. "More, more, I'm gonna, hell, fuck me."</p><p>John could do that, could reach between them and take Rodney's prick in hand. He had meant for it to be slow, meant to make love to him, meant to do all of the right things. For the moment, all he could do was make sure that they both came, and he was close. God, he was so close, and babbling about it, telling Rodney.</p><p>Slow would be another time, a time when Rodney wasn't twisted up around him, clutching close, begging to be fucked and writhing back against John. Slow would be in the morning, or in a week, or in a month, when he could manage. For now there was this, and Rodney yelling and spilling between them and clutching tight around him, and John couldn't hold on anymore.</p><p>He was there, too, coming, balls tight and ready to burst and at least Rodney had gone first so John could go, like permission. When he did, it was such a relief, synapses snapping, entire body going taut and then releasing, letting loose, the kind of orgasm people talked about but John didn't believe existed. Not really... except for the part where it did, because when he could think again, he had his face buried in Rodney's shoulder, Rodney's arms around him, and yeah. Oh, yeah.</p><p>"Wow," he managed to whisper.</p><p>"Mmhm, 'wow' might be an understatement." Rodney's voice was a low, saturated-sounding sigh. "This... this was great. I think it was a perfect honeymoon do-over. Without having to be unimpressed with Niagara falls."</p><p>There was no way not to laugh, a little hysterical kind of sound. "Yeah, well. I never intended for us to go there. I was thinking something more along the lines of a cabin in the middle of nowhere. You, me, enough groceries for a month, and a bed at least this big."</p><p>"And satellite internet." Rodney added that on in a deadpanned tone that made John want to grin wider.</p><p>"Mmm, no. You'd just try and work while we were supposed to be honeymooning. But maybe." John felt himself slip out of Rodney, and he leaned up, pressed his mouth against that crooked line in soft, sweet kisses, tiny motions of his mouth.</p><p>"There's a lot of 'what next', isn't there?" That was probably Rodney's new, fun worry, but John could bump that aside for a little while. What came next was that they'd make it work.</p><p>They could do that now. Maybe they couldn't have done it then, ten years ago, but now... "I really do love you, you know."</p><p>"If you didn't, I'm a hell of a lot of trouble to have gone through." But no, he really wasn't. He'd given John a lot of chances, even if he was still gun-shy about some things.</p><p>John moved to the side slowly, tugging Rodney over with him. They were sweaty and sticky and wiping up was going to be a serious need in a while. For the moment, though, it felt good to bundle Rodney close to him, to brush kisses at his temple and stroke his arm with a thumb. "Yeah, well. I think I'm in for the long haul." Maybe he should have been pissed off, still, angry that his father had put them in the position so long ago that had nearly led to disaster when it could have been this instead, could have been perfection. He didn't think that was the case, though. He wished he could thank him for it.</p><p>It had finally worked, and maybe back then, it wouldn't have worked no matter what had happened that night. They were too young and neither of them could stand on their own, and...</p><p>And Rodney was kissing him, twisting closer, sliding one leg over John's thigh, hooking onto him. "Good."</p><p>"Yeah." And now they could. They had. They were strong separate, and great together, and John had a lot of hope. "Your turn next." He might not have ever done it that way before, exactly, but turnabout was fair play, so to speak.</p><p>Rodney chuckled a little, and let his fingers linger down along John's spine. "I've been watching porn online to get ideas."</p><p>"I think I'm scared." Except he wasn't. Not at all. "Next time? I want to put my tongue in your ass."</p><p>He could feel the exhale Rodney gave, and the way his fingers stuttered for a moment. "Yeah? Yeah. That sounds like a, like a great idea..."</p><p>"I get good ones sometimes," John murmured, kissing his temple again. "Later. When you're ready. Everything, when you're ready."</p><p>"I think I can be ready for a lot of things." Yeah, but John wouldn't push. He shifted, determined to hold onto Rodney a little while longer before they got up to shower.</p><p>"If you ever aren't...." John paused. "You'll tell me. Won't you?"</p><p>"Yeah. Yeah, I, since you want to listen, I will if you ever do."</p><p>That was good enough for John. "C'mon. Let's go get a shower. Tomorrow, maybe I'll tell them I'm not coming in for a week or two. Leave Pete in charge." He couldn't help the way his lower lip pouted sulkily. "I think he likes you. We seriously need to find him a date when we get back from our honeymoon."</p><p>"He tried, actually. When I was standing outside of your office after I, uh, eavesdropped." Rodney shifted, so the shower was definitely all right by Rodney. That was good.</p><p>"Would it be wrong to open up a branch in the Yukon and send him up there to work?" John whined, getting out of bed slowly and tugging Rodney with him.</p><p>"Maybe. I don't think you'd get too much advertising up there. It might rile the guys who paint their own signs." Rodney clutched tight at John's fingers, moving a little pathetically as he followed after John.</p><p>"Then I guess we'll just have to introduce him to Radek or something. Hey, maybe Ronon."</p><p>"Ronon likes guys?" Rodney sounded almost scandalized, as if John was the only gay or bi guy he'd ever met. That story was going to be worth taking the time to tell him.</p><p>"Not so much, but hey. Maybe it'll scare him enough that he'll leave you alone, 'cause you? You're not available." John leaned forward and kissed him. No. Definitely not available.</p><p>From the way Rodney leaned into him, with them halfway to the bathroom and a hot shower, to kiss him back, he was sure that Rodney was going to stay that way for a long time. Longer than ten years, definitely.</p><p>Maybe for the rest of their lives.</p>
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